


Signal Lost (& Found)

by at1stsoo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bromance, Coffee Shops, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Romance, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/at1stsoo/pseuds/at1stsoo
Summary: Ink fades, but the mark on Jongin's heart remains.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [okaykyungsoo (eternalseoks)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalseoks/gifts).



> I really appreciate all my friends who listened to me stress over writing this fic. Big hugs go out to my beta, who was instrumental in me seeing this story through to its end. Thanks for the reassurance. To my recipient: This prompt took on a life of its own. I doubt this was what you were imagining, but I really hope you enjoy the result!

 

Jongin is five years old the first time it happens.

He’s playing outside, digging for worms, when a pattern in dull black spreads across the inside of his left wrist. His eyes widen as the markings fan out, captivating him. There’s no fear, only curiosity. A cool, tingling sensation accompanies the thin dark lines, slowly revealing a small, uneven flower with five petals, a simple stem, and one lopsided leaf. “Wow, pretty,” Jongin whispers to himself. He traces over it with a mud-caked finger and realizes it’s flat, inked into his skin and unsmeared by the gooey mud. Huh. When it shows no sign of changing, neither growing nor shrinking after the pattern is complete, Jongin loses interest. He returns to the task of wrangling a third worm.

Once his mother calls him inside for dinner, she takes one look at her grinning, sun-kissed boy caked with dirt and shoos him into the bathroom to wash up. When they sit down to eat, she notices the flower on the inside his wrist.

“Jonginnie, markers and pens are for paper only, dear,” she says with a scolding cluck of her tongue.

“I know, mommy. I didn’t draw on myself,” he answers around a mouthful of rice.

She gives him a pointed stare under disbelieving eyebrows but lets it go, reminding him to clean more thoroughly during bath time. His dad says to “let him be a kid” and sends his son a conspiratorial wink. Jongin grins his toothy smile back and then watches as his parents communicate silently through a series of meaningful looks, mouthed words, and gentle touches, ending with his father announcing he’ll do the dishes and planting a loud smooch on his mom’s cheek as she blushes. Parents are so weird sometimes.

Later in the bath, he stares at his wrist, resting it on the outer rim of the tub away from the water because… he doesn’t want to scrub the black markings off. Jongin can’t really explain why, but he likes it. It feels nice. He wants to keep it. Gingerly, he dribbles a few drops of the warm water over the pattern, bracing for it to change.

But it stays.

Feeling braver, he splashes more water over the flower.

Still there.

Giggling, Jongin submerges his whole arm into the bathtub and smiles as the dull black ink remains. He even tries soaping it up with his Pororo body wash and witnesses no change. So it is permanent! He finishes his bath and bounces off to bed, inexplicably happy over his newly acquired tattoo. He’ll just tell his mom in the morning that it wouldn’t wash off.

But when he awakens, the flower is gone, leaving no trace behind. Jongin frowns, checking his sheets to see if it rubbed off during his sleep, but see no smudgy signs of it. Disappointed, he flops out of bed and distracts himself with a few rousing episodes of his favorite cartoons.

Another one shows up a few days later. Jongin spies it out of the corner of his eye while racing his remote control car around the living room. The sable-colored flower blooms onto his skin in roughly the same spot, the inside of his left wrist. It’s almost identical to the previous one, but has two leaves this time, not just one. The lines are a little straighter, too.

Beaming at the pattern with pride, Jongin drops his controller and scurries to his room. Since the last one disappeared, Jongin wants to jot this one down. His parents had just bought him a work desk with new pencils, sketchpads, and a leather-bound journal. Maybe it’s like a scavenger hunt made just for him, to find this special flower somewhere. Who knows? He tries to copy it faithfully into his journal, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration while he tries to make his little five-year-old hand cooperate.

His version is markedly less pretty. But at least it’s there, documented. He searches for flowers that match his wrist in his yard, but comes up empty. Oh well; he’ll keep searching.

This flower also fades away overnight. Jongin pouts at his wrist, whispering a soft, “Come back…” and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to conjure it back like magic. When he cracks an eye open, though, his wrist remains bare. He sighs and hopes it’ll return again in a few days.

And it does! The markings always disappear in the darkness while he sleeps, but they bloom again and again, usually every couple days or so. Jongin copies each one down. They’re not always the same flower, now. Sometimes, they have wider, pointy petals. Sometimes, they appear as circlets or flower crowns. Eventually, more detailed bouquets are springing up on his wrist, and Jongin mostly laughs at his feeble attempts to replicate them in his journal.

This goes on for months, with Jongin purposefully choosing to wear long-sleeved sweaters to help hide them from prying eyes. Spring approaches, though, and warmer weather settles in, thick and humid in Seoul. One day, while Jongin is helping water the outdoor plants, his mother watches one appear in real time. When the dark lines start to snake onto his skin, she screams, thinking he’s gotten a horrid infection. In a flash, his mom is scooping him up to rush him to the hospital until Jongin pats her face gently to get her attention and explain it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. It happens all the time, has been happening for a while, and he likes them. They make him feel special.

For some reason, this disclosure changes her demeanor from fear to elation in a heartbeat. She spins him around in circles and kisses his cheeks endlessly, leaving him totally bewildered. His mother leaves him alone about drawing on himself from then on, but occasionally Jongin catches her sneaking glances at his inner wrist during dinner and smiling broadly to herself. Jongin’s just glad he doesn’t have to hide them anymore.

Then one day, the patterns stop.

It’s hard to say exactly when they disappear, since there were always varying intervals of time between each one, but it was sometime around the accident. The one which Jongin’s father doesn’t survive. Jongin is only nine when he’s burying his father and being told by strangers that he’s now “the man of the house and needs to take care of his mother.” In the tumultuous days that follow, of mourning and visiting his father’s ancestral hometown out in Boseong, the markings aren’t really at the forefront of his mind.

When they return to Seoul and their all-too-quiet home the following week though, Jongin sees his journal on the corner of his desk and realizes the comforting presence on his wrist has been missing. He thumbs over the area cautiously. First his father is taken from him, and now this? Did he do something wrong? He kneels forlornly in the backyard, wrapping a hibiscus flower around his wrist, like he can make it bloom back into his skin if only he can get it to remember him. At dinner one night, he mentions the disappearance of the special patterns to his mom.

She bursts into tears and leaves the room. Jongin doesn’t bring it up again.

\----------

Jongin is sixteen when he finds out about soulmates.

All the students in his grade level are ushered into the school’s auditorium and shown a video, titled _Mandatory Soulmate Education: For the Emerging Adolescent_. The room buzzes with laughter at first, the teens thinking it’s a hoax. Within a few minutes, though, a hush falls over the crowd as the narrator explains that soulmates are very much real and provides evidence via careful scientific study around the phenomena.

In humans, a soulmate sends out a signal, something that manifests in the form of their passions and talents, to their receptive mate when they cross paths. This occurs without the person’s awareness they are transmitting anything. The signal itself can take an array of forms, but is usually discernable by the receiver as something they are seeing, hearing, or feeling that is clearly coming from outside themselves.

This has been kept a secret from children, the video narrator explains, because of negative consequences in the past. Meddling parents used to try to set their children up with their soulmates, creating Tinder for Tots organizations to find their son or daughter’s mate as early as 4 years old. They were dedicated to organizing large scale ‘play dates’ and ‘speed play conventions’ in hopes of signals showing up early and allowing the adults to map out arranged marriages with the ‘right’ person. Apparently, this never ended well. Fate, it seems, doesn’t like being overly wrought. The soulmates found at this age had a startlingly low success rate, with more than 90% of relationships fizzling out before they reached college-age, and few pairs making it to the altar. (Or worse, getting married out of hope that the early signal was enough to ensure a happy partnership, but then divorcing within a few years.) As a result, a council of childhood development experts and relationship counselors recommended the government adopt a policy of silence on soulmates until mandatory Soulmate Education in high school.

“Which brings us to today. You’ll now disperse into groups to ask any questions you might have to your educational facilitator,” the video ends, with a collage of couples wrapped in warm embraces and beaming at their soulmate.

They’ve already been corralled into groups based on their last names, and the pleasant and plump Mrs. Lee smiles at Jongin’s group.

“I know that was a lot to take in at once,” she remarks sympathetically. “What questions can I answer for you?”

No one seems to want to go first, but someone at the back of the group finally breaks the ice. “Does everyone definitely have a soulmate?”

“Well, we don’t know with 100% certainty. In theory, yes. But please keep in mind that lots of people don’t cross paths with theirs, and they go on to have wonderful relationships and get married.”

There’s another lull until a bubbly girl named Seulgi cheerfully asks, “Mrs. Lee, is your husband your soulmate?”

“Yes, I’m happy to say that he is,” the teacher says with a fond smile.

Sehun, Jongin’s friend sitting beside him, chimes in. “What was his signal?”

“Well, his passion is singing, so I would hear these lovely melodies in my head, almost always late at night or early in the morning. Turns out, he liked to sing in the shower.” Mrs. Lee chuckles and most of the group joins in.

“When did you start hearing his signal?” asks an eager Luna.

“Hmmm, I think I was fifteen. It was definitely before I had the Mandatory Soulmate seminar. Things kind of clicked for me after seeing the video, and I started to understand what the singing voice in my head was all about. I imagine some of you might be having the same experience right now,” the teacher says with a smirk, sending a small wave of chatter through the group, everyone turning to their friends and starting to whisper questions. “I didn’t figure out exactly who the voice belonged to for another year, though. He was at a neighboring high school, so we hadn’t formally met. One day, I heard him talking to a friend in the park, and that’s when I recognized his voice. I made him sing, right on the spot! Poor fella, getting accosted by a strange girl out of nowhere. But lucky for us, he didn’t mind, and we started dating right after.”

A tentative hand is raised at the edge of the group. “But I haven’t felt or seen anything unusual. Does that mean I don’t have a soulmate?” asks one quiet girl named Yeri.

“No, sweetheart. That could mean lots of things – most likely that they haven’t been close enough yet to cross paths with you. It seems that mates need to be within a 50-mile radius, give or take, for them to pick up on each other’s signals. That’s why, before the mandate, some parents were so anxious to arrange those child play conventions: to gather eligible children and increase the chances of signals being exchanged. It’s also feasible that your soulmate is already near you, but they haven’t found their passion yet. You’re still young, I wouldn’t worry about it too much at this age. Honestly, the whole point of not telling you about how the soulmate network works until now is to keep you from worrying about it at all. Fate seems to have its own ways of wanting to work things out. The more we interfere, the more things… seem to go awry. That’s why it was so easy for the experts to get parents on-board with not telling their children; we’ve all seen or heard about the problem cases.”

Jongin swallows before cautiously raising his hand.  “What if… what if you used to get signals but they’ve gone away.”

“The simplest explanation is that your soulmate is no longer within your communicative sphere, but he or she once was.”

“Right… But are there other possibilities?” He doesn’t really want the answer, should accept the sphere of influence line, but it all sounds too pat, too simple…

“Well,” the teacher sighs reluctantly, “yes. The signaler may have lost their passion. Or sometimes one mate in the partnership becomes a fundamentally different person, so that you’re no longer well-matched for each other. That only happens in rare instances, though, after one partner suffers a major trauma so deep that it dramatically changes him or her. Or…” Mrs. Lee hesitates.

“Or your soulmate has died.” Jongin says it bluntly. Lifelessly. Yeri shoots him a concerned look while a few other horrified murmurs rumble through the classroom. Sehun whispers a quiet, “Dude,” at his side.

“Y-yes. Yes, that is another possibility,” the teacher admits solemnly. Jongin drops his eyes to his lap. So. He could be so messed up, so fundamentally damaged after his father’s death, that he’s no longer good enough for his soulmate. Or his soulmate died back when he was nine. All of it seems so wrong; they were only kids for God’s sake. To have that comforting floral presence on his wrist, to have _seen_ his soulmate’s signal, only to have it wrenched away… It’s so unfair. Even back then, when he didn’t know what it meant, the patterns had made him feel special - how much greater the effect would be right now if they were around, when he’s finally old enough to really appreciate them, when he craves the love and acceptance that’s been missing from his incomplete family all these years.

He’d never stopped looking for the flowers through the painful days.

Jongin feels bitterness and pain welling up inside when Yeri raises her hand again. “But can you get another soulmate? Can you match again, if- if something like that happened?” she asks, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“Theoretically, yes, if both partners are open to it. There was a documented case in the early 2000s, I believe. But honestly, kids, the whole situation is so rare, you needn’t worry yourselves over these extreme cases. Okay! That’s about all the time we have. If you have additional questions, I encourage you to ask your parents. You all need to get to your classes for next hour now.”

The students stand and start to chatter while collecting their bags and heading toward their classrooms. Jongin pulls himself to his feet and heads for the door, eyes downcast. Is it better or worse, getting explanations for why his beloved markings have disappeared? How many nights has he spent over the past few years, lying awake and rubbing over the blank space on his inner wrist, wishing he could summon them to return? Murmuring those magic words that had worked once before but never since? _‘Come back…’_ The dull ache that sits in his chest grows steadily as the reason for the vacancy on his wrist sinks in. She's gone. (He's gone?) Whoever it was... they're gone.

A gentle touch against the back of his hand pulls him out of his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Jongin," Yeri whispers. Their eyes lock, and no further words are exchanged. Her face shows an understanding. The girl has always been perceptive. There's no point in denying it. Jongin murmurs a "thanks" and accepts a gentle squeeze from her hand. It doesn't offer much comfort in the ocean of pain he's currently treading in, but it's a nice gesture.

He watches her float down the hall to her own classroom, amber hair shining in the sun, and wonders if he'll find the desire to move on from what have turned out to be temporary tattoos.

A few months later, he asks Yeri to the school dance. She's all smiles, in her sparkly blue ball gown, hair flowing in time to the music. When they kiss during the last slow dance, Jongin tries not to think about black-inked daisies and flower crowns.

He sees them behind closed eyelids anyway.

\----------

Jongin is nineteen when his life starts over again.

He packs up all of his things and moves out of his childhood home, a tearful embrace from his mom to send him on his way. He’s not going far: he’s attending Hongik University just on the other side of Seoul. His high school friends are scattered across the country now, with the typical promises that they’ll keep in touch. Jongin’s pragmatic side knows most of those oaths will go unfulfilled, but he’ll be okay as long as Sehun doesn’t renege.

He’s spent the last few years embracing new friendships, and feeling freer in many ways than he had in his middle school years. With explanations had come a certain amount of closure, and Jongin enjoyed the perks of a large friend circle without having to wonder if he was going to run into _‘the one’_ like many of his friends, who routinely obsessed over it. (His flirtation with Yeri had been brief; he pretty quickly discovered he didn’t swing that way, stumbling across gay porn on the internet and realizing it was a thousand times more arousing than the Victoria’s Secret catalogue Sehun kept under his mattress.) While he wouldn’t consider himself wholly carefree on the topic of soulmates, he’d come to accept his lot in life.

Though he still finds himself slowing down in front of flower shops.

He moves into his dorm room with an upperclassman who introduces himself as Kim Minseok. Minseok is tidy and considerate, if a bit absent since he’s already got his own set of friends and an internship off-campus that keeps him out of their room much of the week. Jongin settles in just fine, adjusting to the rush of new sights, sounds, and people around him. Classes began two days ago, and Jongin already has three assignments due next week. He wanted the challenge of a difficult major at a respected university, and was so proud of the look on his mom’s face when he got accepted for chemical engineering, but wow, this isn’t going to be easy.

"Hey, can we meet up to work on our research paper tomorrow?" Chanyeol asks him. The affable guy in his freshman seminar class is all smiles, chewing his gum as he perches on the edge of Jongin's desk. They've been paired up randomly by the professor, which can be a disaster, but when you're one freshman out of a thousand new faces, it’s kind of a blessing to get some help making friends. And Jongin could've had worse luck - at least his partner attends every class, takes notes, and participates in discussion. (Albeit maybe a little louder and more often than appropriate. The guy is like a foghorn going off at random intervals.)

"Um, sure. I get out of class at 3pm if you want to meet up after that?" he offers while tucking his notebook into his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Sounds like a plan. Library? Dorm room? Coffee shop? What kind of environment do you like when you're poring over dark themes in Russian lit?"

Normally, Jongin would pick the library. The quiet helps him concentrate, and something about the feel of a physical book still holds appeal to him, the texture of heavy paper. Even when he's not reading them, he likes being surrounded by the shelves of well-worn tomes. The smell, the sound of pages turning in the background...

"Jongin?" Chanyeol waves a hand in front of his face.

"Sorry. Um, coffee shop?" Something tells him that Chanyeol would get them kicked out of the stacks, and he'd really like to keep going back there. The guy is probably better suited for a public space with background chatter.

"Okay great, there's a place just a few blocks off campus. Gimme your number and I'll text you the address."

They agree to meet at 3:30pm. He gets there a little early the next day and scopes out a good table. The cafe is bright and airy, with two wall-length glass windows letting in tons of light. There's a floor-to-ceiling chalkboard along one side of the room, and the wall behind the counter is spackled in an abstract mix of paint in reds, yellows, and oranges. There’s an energy buzzing through the air, from all the color and the whirring of the espresso machine. Jongin quite likes it, actually. He chooses a pleather booth in the back, nestled against the chalkboard wall, and waits for Chanyeol.

"Hi there! Can I get something started for you?"

Jongin jolts, not expecting an eager waiter to approach him. The guy is about his age, with blonde wavy hair and a green apron strapped to his front, embroidered with the name 'Jongdae.'

"Uh, no thanks. I'm waiting for my friend?"

"Sure thing. We can serve you at the counter when you're ready," the worker says with a broad smile. Jongin inclines his head politely and pulls out his laptop and notebook just to have something to do, to look busy and avoid another inquiring waiter.

Chanyeol strides in a few minutes later and spots him right away. He bounces over and drops his bag. “Hey, I’m gonna go order, want anything?”

“Ah, no thanks, I actually don't like coffee."

"Then why'd you pick the coffee shop to work on the project?" Chanyeol barks with laughter.

Jongin shrugs and smiles. "Just seemed like a good change of pace."

"Okay, I'll get a piece of biscotti for you.”

Snacks obtained, the pair get to work dissecting their novel and searching up sources for their paper. Two hours pass rather quickly, and they've made great headway. Better progress than Jongin would've expected, what with Chanyeol going off on tangents every few sentences to tell him stories about people from his high school. Apparently, a bunch of them came to college together. Chanyeol offers to introduce him to the group this weekend, and Jongin accepts.

They're packing up when Jongdae comes back to clear their table. "Sorry I couldn't drop in and see how you were doing more often. I've got a new trainee today, still learning how to work the machines."

"No worries," Chanyeol replies with a polite smile.

“Is there always table service like that?” Jongin asks, confused.

“Yeah, they’re really friendly here. I’m actually surprised we didn’t see the trainee as well.”

Following Chanyeol’s eyes over to the counter, Jongin gets a brief glimpse of vibrant auburn hair that’s styled up and away from darker shaved sides. The owner of said hair has his back to Jongin and is hidden behind another fancy coffee machine before he can get a full view of the guy. Jongin feels himself staring, waiting for another look - when Chanyeol interrupts his trance with a hand on his shoulder.

“Want to head back to campus together?”

“Sure.” He turns back toward Chanyeol and picks up his bag.

As they walk out, Jongin takes another glance around the artsy cafe with its mismatched furniture and nods approvingly to himself. There's something... homey about the place that makes him want to come back.

"I can't meet tomorrow, but what about Thursday? Back here at the same time?" Chanyeol asks.

"Yeah, sounds good," Jongin agrees.

That night ends like any other, studying and watching YouTube while messaging with Sehun until he falls asleep.

But the small thunderbolt tattoo on his inner wrist when he wakes in the morning: that's new.

\---

After pacing around his room for an hour, trying to decide whether to go to class or not, Jongin gives up and flops back on his bed. Attending lecture today would be pointless. His eyes are transfixed on the tattoo, his mind consumed by questions about the black ink’s reappearance. He snaps a picture on his phone and sends it to Sehun: _The signal - it’s back._

What does it mean? Had it been a simple proximity issue and his soulmate is back in Seoul? Had he finally been restored enough as a person that he was maybe worthy of him again? He thought he was over this, but the return of his precious markings has his heart fluttering and mind racing again.

His phone buzzes and shows Sehun’s derpy profile pic of him surrounded by orange toilet paper.

“Congrats on the security of knowing you won’t die alone. I better be best man at the wedding.”

“What do you think it means?” Jongin has found over the years that if you want to have a serious conversation with Sehun, it’s best just to ignore his bullshit and stay on track. Which isn’t always easy, but the alternative of stooping to his best friend’s level of nonsense ultimately derails into a rowdy match of _‘nuh uh, yuh huh’_ style debate, like they’re back in elementary school.

“Um, I’d assume it means you’ve got a thing for tattoo fanatics, seeing as your first true love was all about the ink and now so is your second one.”

Second one… is this a new mate? Jongin frowns, uncomfortable with the thought.

“Why a new one? It could be the same person.” For the first time, he really thinks about the thunderbolt and the stark contrast from his beloved flowers.

“Yeah, I guess. I thought we’d figured they were some kind of florist. What’s a florist have to do with lightning?”

True. “But wouldn’t it be weird for me to get the signal in the exact same spot, in the same format, if it was a new person?” Jongin lets his pinky trail over the black lines, searching for any signs of familiarity with the thickness or curve of the strokes, but he’s not sure. It’s been too long. He gnaws his lip, uncertain. _Do I know you? Are my original special one?_

There’s a ruffling of bedcovers and Sehun yawns into the phone. “Sorry, I guess it could be the same guy. Maybe I’m just biased because you were so certain something catastrophic had happened. See? Your teen angst has been a terrible influence. I may have to sue you for my mid-life emotional distress.”

“Yes, yes. Thanks as always for your great advice and never-ending support, jackass.” Jongin blows a raspberry into the phone.

“I’ll say one thing before I go back to sleep because it’s…” there’s a pause as he checks his clock, “9am? What the hell, waking before noon in college is a sin, Jingo. Look, focus on this: you have a soulmate. And the lucky bastard is somewhere nearby. So get out of your room and maybe you’ll find him.”

Jongin feels his lips curl into a small smile. This is why Sehun’s the best.

“Unless you think it might be your roommate, in which case, stay in and fuck and text me later if it was any good.”

...and this is why Sehun’s also the worst.

He hangs up and heads down the hallway for the communal showers. Though he knows it shouldn’t be affected by the water spray, he holds his left wrist up and out of the way as much as possible, treating it like precious art on fragile canvas. As he suds up his hair with one hand, he thinks about his best friend’s words. Sehun is right: his mate is _out there._ Somewhere nearby, there’s a compatible soul, perfectly fit with Jongin’s own. Oh my god, he’s _nearby_. What if it _is_ his roommate? What if it’s the guy in the shower stall next to him who’s currently hogging all the hot water? Suddenly, everyone new in his life becomes a suspect. And that’s a big fucking problem considering that he just started attending a university with 28,000 students.

Stressed, Jongin rinses off quickly, scurrying back to his room in his towel. Okay, time to get dressed. Getting dressed: what if he sees him today? He probably ran across him pretty recently for the tattoos to start back up again, right? Shit, he’s going to need to dress well from here on out just so that he doesn’t end up meeting him while in his raggedy old Big Bird t-shirt and make a terrible first impression. (Though anyone who has a beef with the Bird has a beef with Jongin.) Okay, a compromise: no slouchy college attire, but nothing too out of place for campus either. Frustrated but determined, he picks out a comfortable pair of acid wash jeans and a forest green sweater. He finger combs his dark hair and lets it dry fluffy, gathers his notebooks just in case he can actually get some work done, and heads out.

But where? He closes his eyes and debates returning to his peaceful nook in the library stacks or heading back to the coffee shop from yesterday. Both feel… right. Whatever that means.

He turns toward the cafe.

The place isn’t quite as busy as the previous day, probably because most of its patrons are still in class (where Jongin ought to be, he remembers with chagrin). He gravitates back to the same booth as yesterday, against the chalkboard wall. Today, he notices there is a small wooden box sitting atop his table, filled with colorful sticks of chalk. There’s an attached note.

_Chalk is happiest when scrawled across a surface: Please draw with me!_

Jongin smiles at the message. Cute. He paws through the box and finds a stick of soft pink. The wall is completely blank at the moment. He swivels in his seat, choosing a small section right next to his elbow, and starts to doodle a simple flower, his favorite from memory. Five petals, one leaf--

“Hello- Oh great, you’re using the chalkbox,” a deep voice greets him from behind.

Jongin turns around and almost loses his breath. Standing beside him, hand resting casually atop the back of his booth, is the auburn-haired boy that had caught his eye yesterday. He’d wanted to linger to catch a peek of his face, and Jongin’s instincts were absolutely on point. The barista’s handsome back view is absolutely eclipsed by his gorgeous front: the pale skinned beauty gazes down at him, looking pleased and biting in his lower lip. “Putting out chalk for the customers to use was my idea,” he confides quietly.

“It was a good one,” Jongin says honestly, unable to tear his eyes away from the barista’s, which are sparkling with a hint of pride at his compliment. Holy hell, this guy is hot.

“Do you draw?” asks Dreamy McLatte, bright curiosity now in his exceptionally large eyes. They’re so expressive and paired with strong brows that Jongin can’t stop running his own eyes over. He blushes and quits ogling the barista, turning back to his doodle and quickly wiping it away before the guy can inspect it and find it wanting.

“No, I just scribble sometimes when I’m bored.” Jongin quickly checks the guy’s charcoal gray apron for a name, but there’s nothing embroidered into it.

“Ah, me, too. But I pretend that it’s all part of my professional development.” Dreamy graces him with the most beautiful smile Jongin has ever seen, the guy’s full lips transforming into an open heart shape. “I’m an art major.”

“I’m Jongin,” he introduces himself totally inappropriately. What the hell. He’s a damn customer, what is he doing; workers here don’t want to know his name.

Dreamy doesn’t seem to mind, though. “Nice to meet you, Jongin.” His name falls off the barista’s tongue in such a lovely tone. “I’m Kyungsoo. Are you a regular here?”

“Um, not yet?” he volunteers hesitantly. “I mean, I just started classes at Hongik.”

“Oh? Me too. I’m a transfer student though, so I’m technically a sophomore,” the barista explains. “Well, I guess if you’re undecided on this cafe, I’ll have to do my best to serve you so you’ll keep coming back.” Dreamy Kyungsoo gives him a little wink, and Jongin drops the chalk in his hand.

He mumbles an apology, picking it up off the floor and placing back into the little chalk box.

“So what can I get for you, Jongin?”

“Whatever you want.” Fuck that sounds desperate. “I mean, is there something you’d recommend?” he bumbles his words trying to recover. He has no idea what to order since he’s never had coffee, but he’s not too keen on admitting it lest he offend the guy’s job.

“Hmm,” Kyungsoo hums, tapping his index finger against his plush lips while thinking. “How about a hazelnut Americano?”

He thinks he’s heard of that drink once before on a drama. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Okay, then. I’ll have it right out for you, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says, patting the table and shooting him another smile before leaving.

As soon as Jongin is sure he’s behind the bar and working on whatever-the-hell an Americano is, he fumbles his phone out his pocket and struggles through a litany of typos to text Sehun. _SHeun, theres a guy!! Help?_

“Answer, answer,” he mutters under his breath, waiting for the Read notification to pop up. None does. Oh come on, is this the first day Sehun decides to actually turn off his phone in class?

“Here you are,” Kyungsoo returns with his drink. “Oh - where’d your drawing go?” He tilts his head to the side with just the faint hint of a pout, seeing the chalk smeared off the wall.

“It wasn’t any good. I’d be ruining your wall,” Jongin insists.

“Nonsense. It doesn’t have to be polished, it’s just meant to be an outlet. Art is just… drawing what you feel.”

Jongin suddenly feels bad for being the first to draw but erasing it and taking that little bit of joy away from Kyungsoo. “Well, I’m uh, going to work on chemistry right now. Is it okay if I doodle molecular models?”

“Yeah,” comes the encouraging reply, his pretty eyes flashing with excitement. “That’d be awesome. The vision is just for it to be a community board, and course material totally fits since half our customer base is from the university. I just need someone to break the ice, be the first brave soul to make their mark.”

Jongin nods. “I can do that. But if you’re an art major, why not work your magic on it yourself?” he asks, offering the chalkbox to him.

Kyungsoo politely declines. “Maybe some other time. I need to go help those other customers, but I’ll check back with you later on?”

Jongin gives him an awkward wave goodbye and watches Kyungsoo’s bright auburn hair as he strolls over to greet a group that’s just arrived at the cafe. He pulls out his notebook and stares at his notes from yesterday’s Chem class, trying to ignore the thudding of his heart inside his chest. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it._ A deep exhale centers him, and he takes a tentative sip of the drink. Not bad; a little strong, but not as bitter as he’d expected. There’s a hint of sweetness mixed in.

The rhythm of the coffee grinder at work helps him sink into concentration, the chemical bonds making more sense now than they did in the lecture hall. For the next hour, he sketches molecular models in brightly colored chalk, labelling each compound and doing his best to make his lines even.

All the while, there’s one thought that continually races along the edges of his mind, like a headline on a news ticker: _‘Could it be Kyungsoo?’_ Jongin considers his possible courses of action and can only imagine two: Say nothing... or Say everything.

He can feel Kyungsoo approach before he sees him, the methodical sound of his black combat boots on the floor giving the barista’s position away. (Not that Jongin’s been paying attention to his every step around the coffee shop for the last 60 minutes. That would be creepy, wouldn’t it?)

“I see you enjoyed the Americano.” Kyungsoo smiles as he collects the now empty cup. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Jongin almost yanks his sweater sleeve up to reveal the thunderbolt and ask Kyungsoo if he knows anything about… about what exactly? Meteorology? How to word this. He’s on the edge of saying something, but his mouth can’t figure out what. Kyungsoo watches him expectantly, sustaining eye contact, until Jongin’s phone buzzes on the table.

“Oh sorry!” Jongin flips the phone face down, noticing Sehun’s text simply said _Slow down - don’t do anything stupid._ He swallows and takes the advice to heart. “I’m alright. Ah, did I do okay with your chalkboard?”

Kyungsoo peruses the wall and nods appreciatively. “Yeah, it’s awesome! You have great control,” he compliments, tilting his head to the side and gesturing to the neat lines of his bonds. “You sure you don’t draw?”

“Positive. Just sketched a lot when I was young.”

Kyungsoo looks like he’s about to say more, but they’re interrupted by a voice from behind the bar. “Soo! Can you get more soy milk from the back?”

“Duty calls,” he says apologetically. “See you later, Jongin.”

“Bye… Kyungsoo,” he replies softly. Once the guy has disappeared into the storeroom, Jongin packs up his stuff and heads out, texting Sehun at the same time.

_Okay, I left_

_Left? I didn’t mean run away, just don’t open with, “Hur dur, are you my soulmate?”_

_Before you texted, I almost asked him if he liked inclement weather_

_Gdi, Jingo. I’m done with class in 5 min, i’ll call_

In the meantime, Jongin walks toward the campus library and finds a shady bench to drop down on. He leans back and admires the leaves ruffling in the wind until his phone rings.

“Hey.”

“So look, I know I was the one telling you to go out and find him and whatever, but you can’t let yourself believe the first hot piece of ass you see is your soulmate.”

Jongin groans. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it? You’re telling me the guy was ugly? Tough break, man.”

“No, he was… He was beautiful. His face, I mean. I didn’t even look at his ass.” Jongin frowns. He probably should’ve checked, for science.

“Exactly: I’ve known you for years, dude, and you’ve never thought anyone was ‘beautiful.’ Because you weren’t even looking. Now you’ve got a signal again, and I bet _everyone_ is going to suddenly start looking hotter.”

Jongin scowls and retorts. “Oh really? Cause I’m looking at your contact pic and you still look like a sack of shit to me.”

“God and even the Devil himself know that we’re not soulmates, just bromates, assface. Now tuck that pouty lip away and listen to me.” Sehun pauses, shifting to a more serious tone. “You want this to happen. There’s nothing wrong with that. _I_ want this to happen for you. But don’t rush it too much or you might freak a lot of people out, get a reputation for being soulmate-crazy, and run out of steam while trying to find him.” They’d seen it before, some people getting overly eager in high school and getting ostracized as ‘mateys.’ “I’d hate to see you lose this newfound optimism, that’s all.”

It’s good advice. Twice in one day, wtf, this is the dawning of a new age.

“So just… proceed but, like a normal human being? If you’re capable of being normal, you nerd.”

“I’ll try,” Jongin says softly, watching students spill out of the buildings, signalling the end of class.

“I gotta run, but quick: tell me about the hot guy in under five seconds.”

He grins. “His name’s Kyungsoo. He’s a barista, and he’s got the best eyebrows I’ve ever seen.”

“Your kinks are weird. Well keep an eye on coffee hottie but stay alert for other candidates, too, alright?” Sehun hangs up, and Jongin mulls the morning over while turning his phone end over end in his hands.

“Jongin!” The yell from across the lawn startles him. It’s Chanyeol. (Of course it is.) “Hey man, you missed seminar. I was worried you were sick or something.” He’s accompanied by a shorter guy who bounces along beside him, one hand hanging onto Chanyeol’s backpack.

“Nah, just wasn’t up for class this morning.”

“Jongin, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol introduces them. They smile politely before Baekhyun apologizes that he has to run to class on the other side of campus.

Jongin’s about to ask if this is one of his friends from high school when Chanyeol yanks the guy back by the shirt for a quick but loud smooch. Okay then.

“Don’t forget I have that calculus quiz at 2!” he calls after Baekhyun.

“Then you better STUDY!” the guy yells back at Chanyeol before sticking his tongue out and disappearing around the corner.

“That’s my soulmate,” Chanyeol says with a proud grin. Oh - OH the loudness. It fits. Good match, karma.

“Wow, that’s awesome.” Jongin has about a thousand things he wants to ask but tries to rein himself in. A little bit of silence has Yeol filling it by spilling his guts anyway.

“He’s one of the friends from high school I told you about. We’ve been together since before the mandatory soulmate video thing, actually.”

“Oh yeah? What were your signals?”

“I still haven’t developed one, actually. Baek’s trying to help me ‘find myself’ but I just keep insisting my only passion is him.” The toothy grin from the giant makes that line incredibly endearing rather than gag worthy. “But his is math.”

“Math?”

“Yeah, Baek is incredible with numbers. I thought I’d just gotten lucky, that some guardian angel was showing me the answers to all my tests during math class. I knew there was no way my brain was visualizing all those geometry proofs and stuff. Turned out it was just my cute seatmate and his beautiful brain at work. I haven’t studied for a math test since - I always just tuned in and watched him manipulate the numbers perfectly for me.”

“Isn’t that kinda… cheating?” Jongin ventures.

“That’s what he says, like he’s not gonna help me out on the last math credits I need for the rest of my life. It’s just _one_ more course, and I’ll always have him by my side to figure out the price discounts at the store or whatever else we need math for, anyway. I got lucky my soulmate has a useful passion,” he chortles.

“That’s pretty cute,” Jongin admits. He almost confides in Chanyeol about the black lines hiding under his sweater sleeve, but holds back. He’s only ever discussed it openly with his mom and Sehun. This friendship is still too new.

“I’m headed over to the coffee shop, to look over calc notes just in case Baek is serious about not helping this time. Wanna join me?”

“Yes” flies out of Jongin’s mouth, but then his brain wakes up and forces him to take it back. “Actually, no, I really ought to head to my next class.” He can’t imagine what Kyungsoo might think if he showed up twice in one day. “I’ll see you there tomorrow for our paper, though? Sorry I missed notes for today.”

“Don’t sweat it - I’ll give you mine. See you then.” Chanyeol waves as he goes on his merry way.

Jongin goes to all his classes like a dutiful student and spends 75% of the time paying attention to the lecturer, 25% of the time looking at every male student carefully, giving them each their chance to seem… different. Not just in physical attractiveness but habits or a spark or… anything. But there’s nothing there.

He goes about his day and finishes up his schoolwork at his desk that night, staring at his wrist in the lamplight of his room. He gently traces the thunderbolt with his index finger, saying farewell, knowing that it’ll be gone in the morning.

\---

When he wakes to his phone alarm blaring The Weeknd, his wrist is bare, but that’s okay. There’s something comforting about the cycle conforming to the previous one - if it’d stayed, Jongin might actually worry. It’s the same one, the same soulmate, he just knows it. They’ll have been meant for each other since he was five and playing with mudpies. He smiles while getting ready.

He gets through classes without incident, anxious for 3:30pm to roll around. Jongin keeps his head up as he walks campus grounds, but his mind is already on the smell of coffee and a pretty, heart-shaped smile.

He pushes through the cafe doors and makes a beeline for the red pleather booth, tossing his bag in the chair across the table to save a spot for Chanyeol. The chalkboard wall still sports a few of his chemical compounds, but several have been erased and new sketches now adorn the wall. It’s a mess of color and varied doodles: The chalkboard has burst to life. Jongin admires the mix of stick figures, problem sets, and hearts decorating the full wall.

“Hey there!”

Jongin turns and tries not to let his smile slip when he sees the other barista, with ‘Jongdae’ embroidered on his apron, standing beside his booth. “Hi.”

“Can I get anything started for you?”

“No, I’m just waiting for--”

“Ah your friend? He’s ordered a latte two days in a row. I can get that going along with your order if you want?” Jongdae offers.

“Um…” Jongin peers over at the counter, pretending to look at the menu hanging above it when he’s actually hoping to catch a flash of bright auburn hair. Which he does. “No, thanks! I’ll wait for him just in case he’s in the mood for something different.”

“Okay, man. Sounds good-- oh sorry!” Jongdae had clapped him on the shoulder but ended up shocking him, a little zing of electricity jumping from his hand to Jongin’s shoulder. “My bad. I carry so much static electricity around; my mom jokes I’m practically a walking thundercloud.”

Jongin’s eyes fly open wide. “O-oh really?” Wait what. He runs his eyes over Jongdae’s friendly face: the guy is good looking, he supposes, with nice cheekbones and a kind smile, but… there’s no pull. No rush of adrenaline, no sound of trumpets.

“Yeah, my bad. Anyway, just come see me at the counter when you’re ready!” Jongdae flashes another kittenish smile and wanders away to clear a table that’s just been vacated by messy patrons.

Jongin chews on the inside of his cheek, confused. Should he… pursue? He should, this is a sign right? There was a _literal_ lightning strike. Miniature in size, sure, but still. “Uh, do you go to Hongik, Jongdae?” he asks.

Slightly surprised, the guy turns towards him and answers,” Yep! You and your friend?” he returns the question.

“Yeah.” They’re enveloped in an awkward silence until the coffee grinder springs to life and drowns it out. Jongin turns and sees Kyungsoo working the machine, biting his lip in concentration as he tries to make sure all the grounds flow into the little silver holder he has placed beneath it. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, showing off flexed forearms as he presses the grounds for an espresso. God, he looks amazing.

Jongin forces himself to look away and back at Jongdae, now wiping down another table. Small talk, he should at least be able to make small talk with… anyone but especially his soulmate right? If this guy’s his soulmate? “Uh, what’s your major?” he tries.

“Art. Cliché, I know, but please don’t tease me that I’ll still be serving coffee here after graduation,” Jongdae says good-naturedly.

Jongin gives him a small smile and watches him head back behind the counter with his stack of dishes. Oh ass - he should check the ass, he remembers at the last second.

Not bad. Muscular and pert. Nothing that’s getting Jongin’s juices going, though.

Jongin buries his face in his hands. This is so shallow. Is he really feeling let down just because the guy isn’t making him lust at first sight? Who said soulmates have to immediately give you butterflies? But there’s an undeniable sense of… disappointment, where there should be elation. He’s found him… right?

“Jongin!” Chanyeol startles him out of his headtrip and then glances at the chalkboard wall. “Oh wow, the wall looks cool! Biscotti for you again?”

“Uhhh, actually I’ll go order this time.” Jongin needs to get his head in the game and just keep talking to this guy. Even if it doesn’t feel right. “What would you like?”

“Vanilla latte, thanks.”

He strides over to the register, ready to try again with Jongdae, but it’s Kyungsoo who slides down the counter to meet him.

“Hey! How’s it going today, Jongin?”

 _He remembers my name._ Jongin feels a surge of fondness in his chest. “Great, I’m…” he tries not to stare at the deep v-neck of the colorful shirt the guy is wearing, but his eyes wander anyway, drinking in the milky skin that smooths over Kyungsoo’s collarbones and down his chest. “...I’m great.” Jongin wants to slip a finger into the notch at the bottom of the v-neck and tug forward a little to see if he’s as smooth and pale down the rest of his front.

“Did you notice the wall?” Kyungsoo’s chipper question snaps him out of his trance.

“Yeah, I did! It looks great.” How many times can he use the word ‘great’ in one minute. The guy is going to think he’s a moron with a smaller vocabulary than a fruit fly.

Before he can produce a different synonym, Kyungsoo is leaning forward, both hands on the counter. He breaches Jongin’s space, stopping a few inches from his ear, and whispers, “I tried to save your chem models from a pack of toddlers that came in.” He retreats after delivering the message, and Jongin releases the breath he was holding.

He’s drawn forward like a magnet, wanting to recapture the closeness. “But why?” Taking his own chance, Jongin leans across the counter, noticing he’s significantly taller as he gets as near as he dares, to whisper in the boy’s ear, “and why is it a secret?”

Kyungsoo giggles and tilts his jaw up to whisper back, breath lightly tickling Jongin’s cheek. “Because I think I’m not supposed to interfere with the community wall. Seems to go against the spirit of it.” And then the barista is standing up straight again and staring at Jongin, a little twinkle of mischief reflecting in his eyes.

“So why’d you do it, then?”

Kyungsoo scratches the nape of his neck. “Felt protective of the original artist’s work. The first strokes on a blank canvas are always special.” The words slip out of Kyungsoo’s mouth with such reverence for those initial moments when a creative work comes to life. Subconsciously, Jongin strokes the inside of his own wrist.

The air is still and time stretches out as they stand there, sharing quiet smiles and lingering eye contact.

“Hey, do we have more dark roast in the back?” Jongdae asks Kyungsoo, startling them both with the interruption.

“I’ll check,” Kyungsoo replies to his superior, giving Jongin a little finger wave goodbye, and goddamn he’s so cute. Jongin repeats the motion a second too late, as Kyungsoo’s already disappeared into the storeroom.

“So, is it a latte again?” Jongdae asks him with a wink.

Jongin licks over his lips and forces a smile at the barista now taking his order. Be nice, he seems nice. “Uh, vanilla latte for him. And I guess I’ll have one, too?”

“Two vanilla lattes! I’ll have them ready just a bit.”

When Jongin pulls out his credit card and hands it to Jongdae, they experience another small zap of electric shock. This time, Jongin could actually _see_ the little flash of light from Jongdae’s finger to his own.

“Ah! Sorry again!” he says while swiping the card through the machine. Jongin shakes the sting out of his hand and ignores the one in his heart. So… this really is him, huh? “Want me to throw your card back to you so I don’t fry your fingers?” Jongdae jokes, pretending to frisbee toss the credit card.

He’s funny. Jongin should appreciate funny. _Don’t be a moody asshole. Play along._ With a breath to clear his mind, he puts his wrists together, holding his hands open like a clam to catch it.

This catches Jongdae by surprise, but he grins and motions him to step back. “Go long,” he says. “It’s no fun if it’s too easy.”

Jongin smiles and nods in agreement. He takes several steps back and readies himself, watching amusedly as Jongdae squints in concentration before sending the card flying through the air. Kyungsoo returns with a huge bag of coffee beans hefted over his shoulder, just in time to see Jongin almost catch the credit card, bobble it up into the air twice, and finally secure it triumphantly.

“Nice snag!” Jongdae hoots with a thumbs up. “Sign whenever you’re ready,” he says, gesturing at the signature pad.

“Is it always gonna be like this, me working while you play with the customers?” Kyungsoo mock grumbles behind the bar, bending over to set the sack of beans down on a lower shelf. Jongin fumbles and drops the signature stylus as he stares at the most perfect ass he’s ever laid eyes on. Two plump curves in jeans so tight the seam of them clings to the crack running right down the middle. Hot damn, he’s dealing with a luscious bubble butt here. He wants to cup it so badly. What the _hell_.

He manages to pull his eyes away before he gets caught. Kyungsoo stands up to swat at Jongdae who’s teasing, “Know your role, rookie.”

Jongin retreats back to his table where Chanyeol is scribbling Baekhyun’s name on the chalkboard among little hearts. He slips a quick text to Sehun before getting Yeol’s attention and sets them to work on their research paper. A few minutes later, Jongdae brings over their drinks, complete with latte art. A pretty butterfly in Jongin’s and cute whale in Chanyeol’s. Jongin admires the curve of the wings and detailed patterned etched into them. Meanwhile, Chanyeol gives his compliments to the barista as he leaves, and then takes a long sip from his mug.

“You not gonna try yours?”

It’s almost too lovely to drink. “Maybe in a bit. Don’t want to burn my mouth,” Jongin reasons. They go back to writing the paper.

When Jongin finally sneaks a sip, he enjoys the way it slides down his throat, warming him from the inside out. Lattes are nice, he decides. He really hasn’t given coffee a fair chance.

They finish off the paper, taking only a few breaks for Chanyeol to text and Jongin’s eyes to betray him and stare at Kyungsoo wiping down tables. When it’s time to go, Jongin simultaneously wants to stay and get the hell out of there to regroup.

Packing up his bag, he notices Kyungsoo struggling to balance a slew of cups left behind by a large group. The boy’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as one mug shakes precariously on top of the stack.

“Let me help you with that,” Jongin offers, jogging over quickly to take half of the dishes off his hands.

“Thanks,” Kyungsoo gives him a bright smile. His eyes crinkle adorably, and his cheeks look so pinchable that Jongin wants to drop the plateware to squeeze them. (It’s probably shatterproof, right?) Instead, he dutifully follows him back behind the counter and places the dishes by the big, industrial sink.

“You joining the team?” Jongdae asks. He tosses him a dish rag in jest, which Jongin deftly snags in midair. “Oh - he’s got good hands.”

“Yeah, he does,” Kyungsoo compliments, leaning back against the sink and crossing his arms in front of him. “You catch well.”

“For real, we do have an opening. You looking for a job?” Jongdae continues.

Jongin stands there, eyes flickering back and forth between the Jongdae’s and Kyungsoo’s, both watching him with interest. And it’s too much. He needs to escape, clear his head. “No, I’m pretty swamped with school, to be honest. But thanks.” He hands the dish towel to Kyungsoo, who takes it politely with two hands. His fingers brush over Jongin’s own, soft and warm, in the briefest of touches which has Jongin tripping over his feet as he goes to leave. “I gotta go. See you guys later, though.”

Jongin rushes out the door and calls Sehun, who thankfully picks up on the first ring.

“So you’re convinced you found him. Same guy as yesterday or are you gonna have him and coffee hottie mud wrestle to determine a victor?”

“Different guy. But they’re BOTH coffee hotties.” Jongin is crossing the street without looking both ways and nearly gets clipped by an ahjumma in a sedan, who drives on like Jongin could’ve ended up as roadkill and she wouldn’t have let it ruin her day.

“What is with this sudden coffee fetish of yours? Ugh, ok I’ll call the first guy Eyebrows and this new guy…” Sehun pauses dramatically, waiting for Jongin to fill in the blank.

“I… I don’t know,” he whines, a frustrated hand ruffling through his locks.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You said he was a hottie, too.”

“I was just going along with your nonsense! Look, this is the problem. His name is Jongdae. And like Kyungsoo, he’s an art major, goes to Hongik, and works at the same cafe. But I can’t tell you a single interesting thing about him. I feel… I feel nothing!”

Sehun absorbs the information before responding. “...how’s the ass?”

“Objectively good but I _felt nothing,_ ” Jongin grits out, leaning the phone’s mic closer to his mouth as though his voice could slap his friend through the line. “How can I feel nothing for my soulmate?? This is a disaster.”

“Settle down, drama llama. Maybe you’re just taking my advice to _calm your tits_ too seriously, and while you would’ve bent over for any dick yesterday, you’re limp for even Gong Yoo today.”

“STOP TALKING ABOUT SEX!” he yells into the receiver, attracting unwanted attention from a pack of girls he passes on the sidewalk. Jongin blushes, apologizes furiously, and lowers his voice, striding even faster toward his dorm room. “This is serious, Sehun!” he hisses. “I don’t just mean lust, I mean I felt no emotional connection either.”

“Okay, first off? You just met the dude. You’re demanding a lot from someone for having known them for a few hours.”

“I already met him two days ago,” Jongin interrupts.

“Same difference. And secondly, have you considered that he’s just, ya know, _not_ your soulmate?”

Jongin sighs and presents the evidence: meeting him the day before the signal returned, the lightning bolt between them the first time they touched, and Jongdae’s thundercloud nickname.

“Perfect, I’ll call him Thunder. Now what’s to say that this zap from Thunder wasn’t just a coincidence. An unlikely one, I’ll give you that, but static electricity happens, right?”

“It happened _again_ a few minutes later. For all I know, it might end up happening everytime we touch.”

Sehun quiets. “Well I will admit that’s fairly convincing.” They sit in silence, both pondering the situation. “Could make for some uncomfortable fucking, though.”

Jongin hangs up on him. Luckily, he’s made it back to his room without being killed in a crosswalk or arrested for public lewdness from his outburst. He’s trying to look on the bright side.

His phone buzzes and he answers it without looking at the screen, flopping back on his bed.

“I’m totally into Kyungsoo,” he confesses.

“Yeah?” Sehun asks sincerely. Whenever they reset the conversation like this, he usually returns on his best behavior. “He was there today, too?”

“Yeah. We only got to talk for a few minutes, but he looked amazing, and being around him makes _me_ feel amazing. I tried forcing myself to take an interest in Jongdae several times, try to be nice, but I kept staring at Kyungsoo instead. Have I told you he has the most beautiful smile? And I checked today: his ass is _glorious_.” Jongin thrashes a little on his bed. “This is so unfair, I swear.”

“So you’ve got a crush on him. There’s nothing wrong with that - don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Shouldn’t I have a crush on my _soulmate_?”

“Let’s give the guy a chance. Alright, it’s not love at first sight. Big whoop. Is Thunder really _that_ boring? Can you say anything nice about him?”

Jongin stares at the grooves in the ceiling and conjures up what he remembers. “He likes to throw things at me.”

“I feel that on a spiritual level.”

“I mean he’s playful. And he drew a really pretty butterfly in my latte?”

“See, there you go. That sounds like a nice start,” Sehun encourages.

Jongin rolls onto his stomach. “It’s just weird, don’t you think? That I finally meet someone I’m really attracted to, and then it turns out their co-worker is my soulmate? And I feel no spark for him?”

“Technically, you did feel sparks.”

Jongin rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean, asshat.”

“Maybe it’s all part of the elaborate plan for how Thunder’s going to fall in love with you, and then he’ll be telling your grandkids, _‘when haraboji and I met, he wanted nothing to do with me, chased after the punk who served coffee with me, can you believe this jerk?’_ And your little ones will all shame you and I’ll be in the corner finding it all hilarious for the millionth time.”

Jongin smiles, trying to imagine the scene in his mind. But when he turns to look at his spouse in the daydream, he sees Kyungsoo’s smiling face, not Jongdae’s. He sighs facedown in his pillow. “I don’t know, I just- I’m not even sure I want to go back to the cafe again... That’s not true. I _really_ want to go back. But for the wrong person.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, again,” his friend says gently. It helps. A little.

It’s been more than five minutes of sincerity so naturally, Sehun is back on his bullshit. “Cheer up. Maybe you’ll get to bang them both.” Jongin grumbles. “At the same time.”

“Fuck OFF, Oh Se-horndog, go wank,” he scolds before hanging up on his best friend again.

In the morning, he wakes to black lines imbued on his wrist in the shape of a butterfly. The same butterfly. He takes a pic and sends it to Sehun.

_Imagine this, but in milk foam._

\---

After moping in bed for much of the day and resisting the urge to rush right back into the cafe, Jongin showers and dresses up a bit with a white button down paired with dark denim jeans. It’s Saturday, which means it’s a good day to make friends and avoid a soulmate, he decides. The party Chanyeol invited him to ends up being at a fancy apartment own by a guy named Junmyeon. Jongin double checks he’s at the right address and texts Yeol once he’s standing outside the luxurious high rise to see if he’s already inside. He gets an enthusiastic _Yeah, get your ass up here!_ in reply and nervously makes his way through the lobby.

It’s an intimate gathering rather than a raver, which is nice. The liquor is already flowing, and Jongin settles in with a whiskey sour. Aside from Chanyeol and Baekhyun, it’s just Junmyeon and a girl named Irene hanging out. To his surprise, his own roommate shows up a few minutes later, yanking off his tie as he walks through the door.

“Saturday night, and my boss asks me to stay until 10pm. This internship is such b.s.,” Minseok bemoans, slamming back a shot of vodka on the bar that Junmyeon had poured for himself. His spies Jongin out of the corner of his eye and turns in surprise. “Hey roomie - what are you doing here?”

Introductions and explanations go around. The five of them grew up together on the outskirts of Gangnam. While Jongin ought to feel like an outsider, given how much history the group shares, he really doesn’t. They’re all gracious to include him in conversation. (And the drinks steadily being served by bartender Junmyeon certainly help.)

It’s approaching midnight when Jongin’s tipsy enough that his mouth starts asking the questions that have been lodged in his heart all day. “Baekhyun, tell me. Did you ever wanna date someone other than Chanyeol?”

The boy is sitting on Chanyeol’s knee, and turns to pat his cheek. “Naw, I was only ever interested in this hunk right here. Dumbo ears and all,” he teases, playfully yanking on the one closest to him and laughing at Yeol’s yelp.

“Don’t stretch them, they’re big enough already!” he mock pouts until Baek is giving his lobe a dainty kiss to ‘make it all better.’

“What about you?” Jongin turns the question onto Chanyeol.

“Hmmm, there was this one girl who I thought was really pretty when I was thirteen, does that count? I never felt any urge to act on it, though.”

“Who?” Baekhyun asks accusingly, giving his mate a titty twister. Jongin catches Irene behind the bar suppressing a laugh, and she puts a finger over her lips, making a shhh sign at him. Junmyeon notices their exchange and makes an X sign with his arms with a warning head shake. Jongin grins and nods in understanding. He likes how willing they are to let him in on their inside secrets.

“It doesn’t matter, Baekkie, because I’ve only ever wanted you, my sweet soulmate,” Chanyeol coos at him, nuzzling his jaw and hugging him closer.

“So you never wanted to date other people either, once you met? Not before nor after you knew you were soulmates?” Jongin continues, leaning forward.

“What’s with the mate questions tonight?” Chanyeol asks, looking at him curiously. “You’re not normally so inquisitive about things. But no, one lunch in the cafeteria with him over soggy gimbap, and I was sold. My eyes have never strayed.”

Baekhyun leans down and gives him a loud kiss in approval.

“Those two have always been disgusting. It’s best to ask no questions and just look away,” Minseok advises.

“Look out, here comes Mr. Doom and Gloom,” says Baek, sticking his tongue out.

“I’m not _doom and gloom_ just because I don’t much care for the mystical soulmate stuff and waiting for lightning to strike.” The analogy catches Jongin’s attention and he thumbs over the butterfly currently imprinted on his wrist. “I see nothing wrong with dating around with whomever catches my interest.”

“Oh you’re so enlightened,” Irene mocks with an eyeroll. Turning to Jongin, she tattles with a smile. “The truth is, he has no standards.”

“He was the resident high school whore,” Junmyeon explains. “If you so much as said hi to him, he’d turn on his bedroom eyes and see if you’d take the bait.”

Jongin looks incredulously at his neat, hard-working roommate who has always seemed so proper. Shamelessly, Minseok waggles his eyebrows at him before breaking into a laugh. “Don’t worry - I’d never have a one night stand with a roommate. I mean, that kinda makes it impossible to sneak off in the morning. Where am I gonna go?”

“Wait, so all the times I thought you were just stuck pulling a night shift??”

“Well, not _all_ the times. I do work late fairly often. Just not _that_ often.”

Chanyeol laughs. “Oh no, we’ve scarred Jongin. Get him another whiskey sour, quick! Drink til you forget what you know about Minnie’s late night activities!”

The friends devolve into bickering and good-natured teasing about each other’s vices, eagerly sharing dirt with Jongin. They’re like one happy, dysfunctional family, with a long record of harmless secrets to help embarrass each other in new company. Jongin loves it.

As the evening winds down, he and Minseok decide to head back together. Jongin thanks Junmyeon for his hospitality. Yeol corrects him, saying he should thank Junmyeon’s daddy for spoiling his little rich kid. With a swift kick in the pants, Junmyeon clears Chanyeol out of his home and everyone else follows, saying goodbyes.

“You know, they like to tease me about not caring to find a soulmate. But honestly: what’s the point in worrying about it?” Minseok drunkenly philosophizes on their walk back to the dorm. “If it’s fate, it’ll happen, right? So just… date who you wanna date, Jongin. That’s what I say.” Minseok nods to himself, as if reaffirming his choices even absent the approval of others.

The advice buzzes through Jongin’s system along with the whiskey. He mulls it over.

\---

Terrified as he is, Jongin finds that he can’t avoid the cafe. He’s too drawn to the comfort of being there; it’s like a second home. Over the next week, he visits daily, making it part of his afternoon routine. He discovers that Monday is Kyungsoo’s day off, and (unsurprisingly) he is most productive on this day. His chemical models on the blackboard are all gone now. At least, that’s what he thinks. Then he notices that his regular booth is in a slightly different position than usual. When he scooches the pleather booth back to its original spot, he discovers one dopamine model that was hidden by the back rest.

Not hidden: protected. Jongin smiles, heart warming at who likely did this. He moves the booth forward again, keeping it their little secret, protected from getting erased by the bustling world around them.

He works problem sets and branches out to different types of coffee. Black, no sugar: disgusting. Jongdae laughs at his grimace, takes the cup away, and comes back with a cafe au lait. It’s decidedly more palatable, though not his favorite.

He orders a cappuccino from Kyungsoo the next day and waits at the counter, watching him prepare it while they discuss superhero movies from the summer. Jongin delights in how passionate Kyungsoo gets over movies, especially foreign films. His big eyes brighten with excitement and seem to stare directly into Jongin’s soul as he recounts the merits of the cinematography in a Japanese film he’s never heard of. The barista is slow to finish up his drink, drawing an intricate abstract pattern in the foam, adding a dusting of cinnamon on top, then re-swirling the powder into the design. It feels like it’s on purpose. A guise to keep them talking longer. (As if Jongin wouldn’t stay planted there all day to listen to that velvety voice just because.) He leans his elbows on the counter and watches the attractive arch of Kyungsoo’s eyebrows as he animatedly comments on the use of color in a dramatic Italian film.

He gets very little done, in terms of academic progress, that day. The cappuccino is delicious.

The week continues in the same manner: Jongin occasionally runs into Chanyeol at the cafe and works with him at the table, but on days when it’s just him, he hangs out more and more at the counter. By the end of the second week, he’s discussed the entire history of American cinema with Kyungsoo and knows his favorite films from each era, but despite his conscious efforts to chat with Jongdae, too, he had only learned the guy had an older brother and preferred music to movies.

Truth be told, Jongin also preferred music to movies, usually. But not when he looks at movies through Kyungsoo’s eyes. He’s spoken less and less with Sehun in the late evenings, getting engrossed in Kyungsoo’s recommended films, which often require subtitles and therefore his total concentration.

Sehun teases him good-naturedly about it. “I’m losing you, dickhead. To a barista and foreign studs in indie flicks. Feels bad, man.”

“I can’t replace you. You’re like that annoying birthmark on my ass: no matter how much I want it to fade, it’s still there,” Jongin ribs.

“Speaking of marks, update me on your thoughts about these signals.”

They’ve been appearing more frequently these days, almost daily now. But the subject matter has been all over the map. There’s no cohesive link between them that he can discern, aside from them each relating to Jongdae, he supposes. There was a cat caricature that looked sorta like the barista, the day after he heard an ahjumma complimenting Jongdae’s ‘kitten curls smile.’ He’s even had one with words show up: Milky Ways, written in elegant script. He’s unsure what to make of that one.

“You didn’t text me one yesterday nor today. Are you experiencing a lull?” Sehun asks carefully.

He didn’t text yesterday’s tattoo because it was a dick. A literal, erect dick, with so much detail that Jongin fell out of bed blushing when he first laid eyes on it. He covered his wrist with gauze, just for peace of mind, and claimed he was having carpal tunnel pain when Minseok asked about it. He still visited the cafe, but stuck to his booth for much of the day, unable to meet Jongdae’s eyes when he came to take his order.

“No, no lull. Just forgot to snap the picture. It was a fig leaf yesterday,” he lies. Sehun would never let the dick pic go if he knew.

“Well, I know how things are going with Eyebrows. What about with Thunder?”

“It’s… still okay. We’re kinda friends by now, I think? I mean, we get along fine and even have an inside joke, but it’s just him throwing random crap at me at unpredictable times to see if I catch it.”

“What’s the score thus far?”

“Me 12, Jongdae 4.” He’s become a master at snagging sugar packets and silverware, but stirrers always manage to fly past his hands and smack him in the face, much to the barista’s amusement.

“Guy’s either got a weak arm or is letting you win because he likes you. You were always shit at baseball in gym class.”

“Oh, like you were Oh-Se-Canseco. You’re just bitter because I always eluded your dodgeball throws.”

“That’s only because you’re so agile from years and years of dance lessons. And the fact that I have a bountiful booty with more surface area to hit than your flat ass.”

“Excuses, Hunnie. Lame excuses.” They lapse into silence, and Jongin turns over on his bed to clutch his pillow before revealing his actual concerns. “I’ve been thinking. What if… what if I’m Jongdae’s soulmate, but he’s not mine?” It’s something he’s been worried about for awhile, but hasn’t had the courage to say aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe fate’s wires got all tangled up, so we don’t actually _match_ like we’re supposed to. Like I’m getting his signals because I’m what _he_ needs in his life... but someone else is who _I_ really need in mine?”

“Like some kind of soulmate love triangle? That’s pretty fucked up, Jingo.”

“Well… I was pretty fucked up after my dad died.” Jongin has always known that terrible day changed his life permanently; Soulmate education day only confirmed he lost not only his father but also his soulmate in one fell swoop. _“When one partner suffers a major trauma so deep that it dramatically changes him...”_

“Have you talked to your mom lately?” Sehun’s underlying question is clear. _Does she know about the signals?_

“Only briefly.” _No._

“It’s only 9pm. Maybe you should give her a call. Tell her that her second-son says hello.”

“Okay, annoying brother I never wanted.”

“Whatever, you love me.”

Sehun hangs up, but Jongin tells the disconnected line anyway. “I do…”

He sits up in bed to lean against the wall and think. He glances at the family portrait in a small, black frame on his desk. It’s his favorite photo of his family, intact. They’re at a carnival with a big ferris wheel and crowds of happy people wandering in the background. Jongin stands between his mom and dad, holding a cotton candy bear and sporting a huge grin. His father has a hand on Jongin’s right shoulder and beams at his mother, who is mid-laugh with a flower Jongin had picked for her tucked behind one ear. They were so happy. Life was perfect.

A bus unexpectedly barreling its way through a busy crosswalk stole that childhood bliss.

Jongin turns his phone end over end out of nervous habit. He’s unsure if he’s okay with dredging up painful memories in his mom. But she’d want to know about this, about the signals. She’ll probably be really excited, actually. Maybe _too_ excited. What if it’s a bad idea, to give her false hope when things might not be… orthodox with respect to this seemingly messy match? He sighs and thumps his head against the wall, before deciding to dial her anyway.

“Hi, mom.”

“Jonginnie! It’s about time I hear from you,” she exclaims. The conversation takes off at once, with a barrage of information sharing from both sides, about his classes and her book club and if he’s been eating healthy. Naturally, his mom asks if he’s made any new friends.

“Yeah. Yeah, I have… but I wanted to ask you about… about soulmates.” He’s cautious as he continues. “I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to match with someone properly.”

She hums lightly. “I think everyone worries about that. I know I did at your age.”

Since his father had already passed on when Jongin learned about soulmates, and his mother had never made any move to date again, he had assumed but never truly known if they were mates. And he certainly never dared ask about her soulmate finding experience. Now the door was open, and he wastes no time walking through it.

“You were in college before it happened?”

“Yes, it was my final year. Your father and I were the only seniors in a first-year philosophy class. It was something we were supposed to take at the start of university, but had somehow never gotten around to it. So the professor already didn’t like us much, saw us as slackers.” Her wistful tone carries a hint of amusement. “And then your father had to go and make it worse, sending out his signal to me every class.”

“What was dad’s signal?”

“Corny jokes. I’d hear them, this awkward stream of conscious commentary that would suddenly culminate in this really lame, but awfully adorable dad joke. And I wouldn’t be able to control my laughter. You can imagine how the professor felt about _that._ ”

Jongin smiles, looking at the family photo again and recalling all the weird, subliminal conversations his parents seemed to have at the dinner table growing up.

“Your father was the one who figured it out, that I was always laughing at jokes I shouldn’t be hearing. He signaled _and_ recognized me as his mate first. That’s rare that it happens that way. He loved to tease me about it, that he was solely responsible for us living happily ever after.” Her voice trails off toward the end, thick with emotion. Jongin wishes he could squeeze her hand.

“He really had the best sense of humor.” She pauses before letting her guard down completely. “I might have lost all of my own when he died, I’d become so reliant on his carrying me through each day…”

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“Don’t be. I’m surprised you never asked before.”

“It seemed wrong, to remind you…”

“Jongin, every day is a constant reminder that my other half was gone,” she admits candidly. “My heart feels like it’s perpetually reaching for him each morning, unwilling to learn that side of the bed is empty - has been empty for 10 years.”

Jongin wipes away a silent tear. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, I’m glad you did. Honey, a soulmate is a marvelous thing - but it comes with great responsibility and burdens, too. With such wholeness can come irrevocable emptiness if the cards don’t fall the right way. So it’s important to learn to be happy with or without a mate… I don’t know that I really did.”

He feels it, that motherly worry that his soulmate is lost forever. Remembers her tears when he first told her his beloved patterns were gone. He’s about to tell her about their recurrence when she speaks again:

“Please, don’t fret too much over matching. What I want most is just for you to be happy.”

Another time. He’ll tell her another time. “Okay, mom. I’ll keep that in mind,” he says sincerely.

\---

Classes are done for the day, and Jongin’s about to head to the coffee shop, as usual, but a gangly arm wraps around his shoulder and tugs him in a different direction.

“Hey, buddy. I’m glad I ran into you: I have some celebrating to do and need some help!” Chanyeol cheers loudly in his ear. (This guy should come with ear protection and a noise warning.)

Jongin lets himself get tugged along the sidewalk as his friend explains he passed his calculus midterm “all by himself, like a big boy.” Chanyeol’s proud grin is infectious, and Jongin congratulates him with a hearty thump on the back.

“So where are we going exactly?”

“Here!” Chanyeol proclaims, pulling them to a stop. In front of the flower shop Jongin hasn’t seen since the day he first moved into his dorm. His walks have been confined to classes, the library, and the coffee shop.

He’d have thought he’d moved on from this. He’s had a dozen or more signals in the past month, none of which have been his beloved flowers from childhood. But the nostalgia and longing hit him like a freight train. He lays a hand on the big glass window, admiring the hibiscus on display.

“Come on! I need to pick some out. I wanna surprise Baek, and properly thank him for having inadvertently taught me something about math all these years. I might have done the exam on my own, but I’m not dumb enough to think the foundation for understanding integrals isn’t linked to all the math he’s shown me over the years. He’s still the reason I succeeded.” Chanyeol tugs him into the shop, and Jongin marvels at the colorful flora inside.

“What kind do you think he’d like? What about something yellow?” Yeol grabs the first yellow flower he sees. “It’s sunny, like his personality, right?”

Jongin chuckles. “Yeah, but yellow carnations traditionally mean disappointment and rejection.” He takes the flower from Chanyeol’s hand and places it back in the bucket. “Not quite what you’re going for.”

“Shit. Yeah, and Baekhyun is the kind of guy to look this stuff up and then berate me if I pick something offensive. Dodged a bullet with that one, thanks.” He looks around and grabs a different flower. “What about this one instead?”

Jongin shakes his head, trying not to laugh at him. “Yellow chrysanthemums mean slighted love.”

“What the hell? Why are all the yellow ones bad?” Yeol huffs.

“They’re not all bad. Let’s see, if you really have your heart set on yellow…” Jongin strolls leisurely around the shop, enjoying the wide selection and feeling like he’s a young boy again. “Here we go: yellow daffodils. A bundle of these mean overflowing joy. That’s more like it, yes?” Chanyeol nods enthusiastically, and Jongin selects several choice ones. “You want to get ones that are mostly opened, but not fully bloomed so they’ll last a little longer,” he explains as he gathers the best from the bucket.

“Okay, how do you know so much about flowers? Are you majoring in botany or something?” Yeol asks with a perplexed look.

“When I was a kid, I was always looking for flowers, trying to find certain ones. And I’d look up facts about them once I found them. It was kinda like a long scavenger hunt. I just… really liked them a lot. Flowers made me feel happy, special.”

“Looks like they still do,” Chanyeol comments, pointing at the fond smile on Jongin’s lips.

“Yeah. I guess they still do.”

They take them to the counter, and Chanyeol eagerly pays and compliments the lovely wrapping job the florist does for the bouquet.

“I need caffeine. I’m gonna drop by the cafe before I meet up with Baek. Wanna come with me?”

Jongin deliberates. They’re going to walk right past his dorm, so he could easily peel off. And it’s Monday, so… no Kyungsoo to look forward to at the cafe.

“Come on. You know you wanna,” Chanyeol needles him. So Jongin relents.

They sit down at their usual table. Jongin surreptitiously checks (as he always does) and smiles when he confirms his dopamine model continues to live on, against all odds, hidden by the booth.

“Hi boys!” Jongdae greets them with his ever peppy attitude. Jongin straightens up.

“Hi, Jongdae. How’s…” Something, pick something. Any topic. “...school?” he asks lamely. He sounds like a damn parent checking up on their kid, what the fuck.

“Ah, it’s good. Lots of projects are coming due at once, just that time in the semester,” he replies good-naturedly.

“Yeah, same.” Kim Jongin, ladies and gentlemen. Master of riveting conversation. “Heard any good music lately?”

“Nothing new since I saw you yesterday,” Jongdae teases. Chanyeol sits back, just watching them. Why is he so quiet, he’s never quiet. The lull is stretching to uncomfortably weird when Jongdae reaches for his back pocket. “Think fast!”

Jongin catches the pen before it hits him in the chest. “14 to 4,” he taunts, handing him back the pen.

“It’s not like I need it to write down two vanilla lattes again. Keep it, as a trophy for extending your lead to double-digits.” With a smile, Jongdae heads back to the coffee bar to fix their drinks.

Chanyeol is giving him a peculiar look. “You know, it’s not a rule that you _have_ to make small talk with wait staff.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s obvious you like the auburn-hair dude.”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin corrects without meaning to. He purses his lips to keep them closed.

“Yeah, him. So I get why you chat him up all the time. But you’re always forcing yourself to make conversation with Jongdae, too. Even though you look about as comfortable as you would be getting a dental exam while doing so. Is it because you’re trying to hide your crush on Kyungsoo?”

“I. No. I don’t--” he stops trying to deny it when Chanyeol raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “Okay fine. Maybe I have a crush on Kyungsoo.”

“Then what’s the problem? Ask him out! He seems into you, too.”

“Does he?” Jongin asks like a hopeful puppy. He shakes his expression clear. “No. I mean… maybe. I don’t know. It’s not that simple.”

“You have a boyfriend or girlfriend back home that you’ve been hiding?”

“No! Of course not.”

Chanyeol shrugs. “Then I don’t get what’s so complicated about it. Or does this have something to do with all the soulmate questions you were asking before?”

Dammit, he didn’t expect Yeol to be this perceptive. Luckily, Jongdae returns with their drinks, suspending the conversation. As he hands one to Jongin, their fingers touch and an electric shock zips between them. Jongin tries not to grimace at the regular, painful reminder.

“Sorry! Oh, and sorry that I didn’t have time to do latte art. Our other barista called in sick, so I’m stretched a little thin. I texted Kyungsoo to see if he can sub, but he said he had to finish class first. Oh hey - nice flowers,” he compliments, pointing at the bouquet cradled next to Chanyeol. “Maybe Kyungsoo will hurry his ass up if he knows you’ve got flowers here,” he murmurs, pulling out his phone to text him.

Jongin feels a rush of adrenaline course through his body. “Why’s that?”

“Guy is low key _obsessed_ with flowers,” Jongdae explains as he types. “He knows like every native flower to Korea, it’s incredible. Said he learned from drawing them all the time as a child. Always chats up customers that bring them in or are wearing them in their jewelry even.”

Chanyeol gives Jongin a big eyebrow raise and points at him, as if to say, _‘take notes, bring flowers next time.’_ And then he has to open his big mouth. “What a coincidence! Jongin seems like he’s got a degree in floral history, too.”

Meanwhile, Jongin’s blood pressure is rising, heart rate spiraling out of control, as he takes in this information. Kyungsoo used to draw them. He used to receive them. The constant undertow of feelings whenever he’s around the gorgeous boy. The yearning. Oh God - Kyungsoo _used_ to be his soulmate. He was the original one. It fits too well to be coincidence.

Jongin whips his head up to study Jongdae, who’s talking genially with Yeol about God-knows-what. The sounds don’t register over all the noise and chaos ensuing in his mind. Looking at Jongdae, he sees the lightning bolt, his latte art butterfly, his kitten caricature that have all appeared on Jongin’s wrist over the past month. Signals from his _new_ soulmate. Sehun was right: the markings didn’t _return_. They simply signaled a new mate, a second one.

But his heart can’t accept it, can’t even begin to appreciate what Jongdae might bring to the table. Not while his original one is so close, still within reach.

“I gotta go,” he announces, standing on shaking legs. He needs to think, or cry, or curse at the universe, or--

He almost runs smack into Kyungsoo, who is striding equally quickly through the cafe doors he’s rushing towards. He catches the smaller boy by the shoulders to prevent a forceful collision.

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” Kyungsoo is cheerfully exclaiming into his phone. His bright smile is aimed full blast at Jongin, who’s still holding him in place with strong hands on Kyungsoo’s small frame. “I can’t believe it. My art’s going to be on display in a Gangnam exhibit! Tonight!”

Kyungsoo wraps his arms around Jongin’s waist and embraces him ever-so-tightly, jubilance rolling off of him in waves. All the anxiety and tension Jongin was feeling moments ago ebbs away, replaced by a dull warmth that starts in his chest and spreads throughout his body. Reminiscent of the way he felt watching the inky floral patterns once bloom on his skin. It’s simultaneously calming and elating.

Kyungsoo keeps talking, words coming out half muffled as his cheek is pressed tightly to Jongin’s chest. “There was a cancellation. A big name from Daegu can’t make it, and the gallery owner knows my professor. He asked if he had any new pieces that were worth displaying, and my professor suggested a canvas I just finished, and- and it was accepted! Can you believe it?”

They’re standing in the cafe, glued together, chest to chest, and it somehow feels like the most natural thing in the world. Jongin realizes at some point during this spiel, he’s adjusted his arms to fully envelope the boy and leaned down to nuzzle into Kyungsoo’s soft hair. He smells a bit like acrylic paint mixed with sandalwood cologne, and it’s the best combination Jongin’s ever smelled.

Kyungsoo may have only been talking to him, but Jongdae and Chanyeol have clearly overheard, as trickles of congratulations filter into Jongin’s consciousness. “I’m so happy for you,” he murmurs into the artist’s hair before reluctantly loosening his hold on him.

But Kyungsoo doesn’t let him go completely. His fingers press into Jongin’s hips to hold him there, face turned upward to speak to him. “Will you come? I’d love for you to see- I’d really like for you to be there. Can you?” he asks sincerely.

Jongin is somewhat mystified by the eagerness in the request. His answer is a given: like he could say no to the beautiful doe eyes shining like the sun at him, so full of sweet hope and excitement. He nods. “Yeah, yeah I’d love to.”

He’s rewarded with that breathtaking heart-shaped smile again. His eyes snag on the full lips, curving so elegantly, and he’s not able to look away until they’re interrupted.

“I would come and support, but I gotta close tonight. And find another barista to work on short notice, it sounds like,” Jongdae says with faux irritation in his voice.

Kyungsoo drops his hands from Jongin’s sides and walks over to his co-worker, apologizing profusely. “I really meant to fill in, I got the call on my way over. I’m so sorry,” he offers contritely. “I should go. I need to get the canvas ready for transport, find something to wear. There are going to be a lot of important people there, shit! I need practice my pitch.”

“Go, go,” Jongdae shoos him away with the shake of a dish towel. “Tell me about it tomorrow!”

Kyungsoo’s still making a mental list as he passes by Jongin toward the door. “Find the template for the title card, text my dad- Oh, Jongin!” His hand lands on his arm. “It’s the Zhang Art Gallery, right next to Coex mall. The showing starts at 7pm. I’ll make sure your name’s on the list. Do you think you’ll be able to find it?”

“I’ll manage,” Jongin says with a soft smile. “Go, Mr. Big Shot Artist. I’ll see you there.”

\---

“You’re dressed up awfully pretty,” Minseok comments, inspecting Jongin’s best efforts from head to toe. “Looking to get laid tonight?”

“No.” No? Well, probably not. Jongin mentally slaps himself. “Definitely not. I’m going to support a big moment in a… friend’s life.” Friend, former soulmate, major crush - what good are labels, really?

“All this effort, the clothes, the hair, the _lip gloss_ , and you expect me to believe this isn’t a date?”

Jongin flashes a worried look to his roommate. “Does it look like I’m trying too hard?”

“Ahhh,” Minseok says knowingly. “You _want_ it to be a date.”

“He invited me. I said yes. It sounds like a fancy gallery since it’s in Gangnam, so I just don’t want to be underdressed,” Jongin dodges the question. Is it a date if you arrive separately? The hell if he knows. He hasn’t been on a date in years. He doesn’t know the fucking protocol.

Much less what the rules are for meeting up in the late evening with a former soulmate.

“Well, good luck on your ‘non-date,’ buddy,” Minseok says. “I’m just saying, if you get the chance to bring back company, go for it. I’ll be out, working late.”

Jongin eyes him suspiciously.

“Actual work. There’s an audit next week.”

“Whatever you say.” Noticing it’s already 6:30pm, Jongin grabs his wallet, takes one last look in the mirror, and then waves bye. He didn’t want to arrive right at the start and seem overeager, but he doesn’t want to be more than half an hour late, either. He hurries out to the subway and puts in his headphones, listening to music to calm his nerves and drown out the millions of questions running through his mind. Like how he ought to greet Kyungsoo.

_Thanks for inviting me - by the way, I think we might have been destined for each other, once upon a time._

At 7:20pm, Jongin arrives at the exhibition gallery and walks through the large glass doors, glad he dressed up in a blazer and navy slacks for this. It’s swanky, with neatly dressed waiters in black tie apparel wandering around with glasses of champagne balanced on abstractly shaped silver platters. Nervously, he feels his gelled hair, swept up and off his forehead, to make sure no pieces are falling down yet. An attendant is stationed right at the front, requiring invitations or names from every person entering the gallery. Jongin waits his turn.

“Invitation?” The attendant is intimidating with her stern expression and hair slicked back into a severe ponytail. The scrutiny does nothing to quell his anxiety about this whole evening.

“I was told I’d be on the list? Kim Jongin.”

She scans a bright green sheet of paper on her clipboard before making a checkmark. “Yes, guest of Mr. Do Kyungsoo?”

Odd. It’s only now that Jongin realizes, he’s never asked for Kyungsoo’s surname before. But somehow Kyungsoo knew his? “Yes, that’s who I’m here for.”

The attendant unclips the red velour rope to permit him entry.

“The exhibit begins to your left.” She gestures to a bright room filled with several visitors and artists already. “We have dozens of new pieces tonight, all carefully hand selected by Mr. Zhang himself. Enjoy.”

Jongin steps in and tries not to feel out of place. There are little cloisters of artists and guests mingling, many dressed in all black as though they don’t want to distract from the artwork itself. He doesn’t know anyone, of course, and can’t see Kyungsoo among any of the groups in this room.

So he begins circling the room, browsing the paintings. They’re all canvases of thick paint, and mostly avantgarde pieces that Jongin feels he can’t properly comprehend, but they’re amazing. Really high-class stuff, wow. With each artwork he passes, he grows more and more impressed that Kyungsoo could land a showing at such a fancy gallery already as a student. Proud fondness swells in his chest.

He reaches the last painting at the bend of the hall before it travels into the next room. It’s large, almost as tall as Jongin and twice as wide. Upon first glance, it looks like two universes, similar though not identical, swirling on the black canvas backdrop. Closer inspection shows exquisite detail is paid to every star and tiny planet, a mix of deep browns, golden honeys, and flecks of burgundy even, amid the white specks of space fragments. A faint asteroid belt separates the two universes in an elegant slope. He’s almost too close to really take in the painting properly, so he backs up several steps. And then he sees it. Jongin’s heartbeats pick up pace and flood his ears as he realizes it kind of looks like… two eyes. Two familiar, almond shaped eyes. A subtle hint of a nose between them with a little bump near the bridge. Shaking, he approaches the canvas again, until the image turns back to just a gorgeous cosmic scene. Jongin checks the title card next to the painting, printed in simple black on white:

“His Eyes are Milky Ways” by Do Kyungsoo

The world blurs. The chatter in the gallery fades to an indecipherable hum of fake laughs and murmured critiques, and the edges of Jongin’s vision grow fuzzy, blending all the colors of the painting together except for the two swirling universes—eyes—staring back at him, like they do in the mirror every morning. He blinks and feels the tears slip down his cheek.

He spins away and notices Kyungsoo’s auburn hair in the next room, like an umber flame signaling to him. He looks perfectly in sync with the atmosphere, in black leather pants with a crisp white dress shirt on. Kyungsoo’s back is to him, the artist busy chatting with dignified-looking professionals.

Jongin takes a slow, terrified step forward… before turning around and running out of the building.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

It’s been five days.

The door to the café chimes, and Kyungsoo’s head jerks up expectantly before dropping back down to foam the milk for a cappuccino. The loud chatter of teenage girls entering the coffee shop grates on his nerves more than usual. The gaggle heads to the counter, and Kyungsoo doubles down on his milk foaming task. He’ll let Jongdae take their orders.

Five days since his art exhibit. Five days since he saw Jongin stare at his painting with a stricken look on his face, and then promptly run away without even saying hello. He hasn’t seen Jongin nor his friend in the coffee shop since.

The brush off couldn’t be clearer.

Maybe it’d been a bad idea to invite him. Had the painting really been that obvious, though? The words had been on the tip of his tongue countless times in the café, but Kyungsoo hadn’t ever gotten to pay Jongin the compliment on the lively sparkle in his eyes. Had he interpreted the abstract art as an over the top confession of sorts? It was a bit presumptuous for Jongin to think it was inspired by him, wasn’t it?

Okay, so it was.

But regardless of how hard he’d tried, he was never fully satisfied with his attempt to capture the adorable bump in Jongin’s nose, or the fullness of his starlight lashes. The painting still pales in comparison to the real deal; he’d be surprised if anyone could really recognize it was Jongin. Or did he notice and get offended at his poor depiction? Maybe the boy is vain and Kyungsoo doesn’t need that kind of drama in his life anyway.

As he absent-mindedly paints the foam on the cappuccino into a bear face, Kyungsoo releases a deep sigh. No. Jongin’s not vain. He’s attentive, dashingly humble, and sweeter than pie, despite having the brilliant intellect of an honors student and devastatingly good looks of a supermodel… Kyungsoo squints his eyes closed to stop imagining his crush in all of his perfection.

Lazily, he draws tiny hearts in the foam, framing the bear face all-around. Damn, why does the rejection hurt so badly when they never dated— when he never even got a chance to pop the real question? _You’re wonderful: Can we get dinner sometime?_

“Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo. KYUNGSOO.” He startles out of his daze and sees Jongdae giving him a pointed look. “Where are you lately, because it’s not here.”

“Sorry, I just— I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” Kyungsoo apologizes. Between the dull thumping of his headaches lately and this personal distraction, he’s been off all week.

“Okay. Unable to stop thinking about the mysterious disappearance of tall, dark, and handsome?” Dae asks with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s not make it a bigger deal than it is,” Kyungsoo says, shaking off Jongdae’s hand. “He was just a customer. I was interested, he wasn’t, the world continues to turn.” He hopes if he keeps repeating it to himself, he’ll end up believing it.

The door chimes again and his head snaps up on reflex. Just an elderly couple. “Whatever you say, man. I’m here if you wanna talk.” Jongdae gives him a wry smile and pats his back once, apologizing as he accidentally zaps him. Dammit, when will this guy ever learn to harness his freakish static issue?

His shift drags on and on. Without Jongin to talk to, his eyes to drown in, his jawline to swoon over, this job kinda sucks. He’d grown so dependent on his daily doses of sunshine in the form of Jongin’s blinding smiles and infectious laughter. He allows himself to daydream of the time two weeks ago when Jongin thought he'd lost a big assignment on his laptop. Kyungsoo, having accidentally deleted all kinds of shit on his art tablets before, showed him a helpful trick to restore the document. Leaning over the boy to use his touchpad, he'd been able to get so close, and when Jongin turned to thank him, Kyungsoo could've sworn they were being pulled together by an outside force... lips dangerously close and closing in...

Damn Dae's inopportune whining and refusal to ever fetch anything from the storeroom if a subordinate was around. _Should've kissed him then and there, just gone for it. Stupid, stupid, stupid..._

He’s sweeping the floor with only five minutes left before closing when the door chimes. Great, another last second shithead who’ll want a venti nonfat extra-foam soy latte with two pumps of kiss-my-ass syrup. With a death glare, Kyungsoo turns to greet the customer.

“Hey! How’s it--” The loud friend of Jongin’s pulls up short after taking one look at Kyungsoo’s scowl. “How’s it going?”

The pissy face disappears immediately as he recognizes the guy and stops sweeping. “I’m okay. How’s-” he stops himself from saying ‘Jongin.’ “How’s life?”

“Good,” the giant says with a mysterious smile playing on his lips. “I have something for you.” He produces a small, textured envelope with Kyungsoo’s full name on the front.

Kyungsoo politely accepts it with two hands and gives the guy a confused look.

“Jongin said you’d be getting off work about now. He’s waiting, but if you’re busy or don’t want to go, I can text him…”

Oh, so he’s supposed to read this now? He opens the envelope, enjoying the rough texture of the paper under his fingertips. Inside is a simple lilac card. In careful handwriting, reminiscent of the straight lines of the chemical model Kyungsoo’s selfishly kept hidden away on the chalkboard wall, are the words:

 _Special Exhibition for an Audience of One_  
_(Sorry I’ve been MIA. I’ll explain. Hope you’ll come.)_

There’s an address listed beneath it. “How long will it take me to get there?” Kyungsoo asks, already untying his gray apron and pulling up Kakao Maps on his phone.

Loud friend smiles. “It’s about a 10 minute walk.”

Kyungsoo grabs his backpack from behind the counter and pulls the giant out of the cafe to lock the door behind them. “Tell him I’ll be there in 5.”

He sprints the whole way, a goofy grin on his face and anticipation in his heart. He’s not sure what to expect, but somehow, he knows it’ll be good. Just like everything always is when he’s with Jongin.

He pushes through the wooden door that corresponds to the address and is met with a quiet, dimly lit hallway. It leads into an old theater that’s small with only about 50 seats in the room, each covered in worn red velvet. The overhead lights are off, the spotlights on the stage providing the only illumination in the room. The stage is empty except for a tall spool of white paper off to one side, and Kyungsoo’s not really sure what to do. Should he sit? Go looking for Jongin backstage?

Suddenly, there’s a tap of a microphone followed by an awful screech of audio feedback blaring over the speakers. “Shit! Sorry! Sorry,” he hears a familiar voice filter through the room.

Kyungsoo eagerly scans the stage but still sees no one. He smiles, licks his lips, and yells back, “’s okay!”

“Um, thanks for… for coming. You can sit anywhere you like, by the way,” comes Jongin’s voice through the speakers again. It’s laced with nervousness, and the butterflies Kyungsoo always feels around the beautiful boy seem to flutter even faster, mimicking the giddy tension that permeates the room.

Silently, Kyungsoo chooses a seat in the middle that seems to beckon him. He sinks into the aged cushion and rubs the palms of his hands over his thighs a few times, itching with anticipation and uncertainty as he glances around the performance hall.

“First off, I’m sorry. I know you think I didn’t come to your art exhibit like I said I would.” Jongin’s voice is gentler now with the quiet apology filling the theater.

“Actually,” Kyungsoo starts softly, but then clears his throat. It feels weird to shout, but if he’s too quiet, he’s not sure the boy will hear him from… wherever he is. Raising his voice, he tries again. “Actually, I saw you. Right before you… left.”

“Oh. Oh fuck. Oh that’s way worse, isn’t it?”

Kyungsoo chuckles at the disarming honesty. “Uh, I don’t know. Kinda? Was my art that shitty?” he asks with nervous amusement.

“No!” comes a vociferous and quick denial over the mic. “You have to—I want you to understand. That’s why I, uh, invited you here tonight. I needed to explain about your art. What it means to me.”

Kyungsoo leans forward, brow furrowed. What it means to him? He’s never seen his work before, how could Jongin have attached any meani—

The light boom of the mic getting set down reverberates through the room just before the boy appears on left-hand side of the stage, next to the standing spool of paper. It’s almost as tall as Jongin. He flashes an unsure smile at Kyungsoo before hesitantly grabbing the free end of the paper and walking slowly across the stage, unfurling it as he goes.

The words on the paper are easily recognizable. It’s a piece of his painting’s title, Milky Ways… stylized _exactly_ like Kyungsoo had doodled it in his sketchbook. The curl of the lettering and the accompanying drawing is cruder than Kyungsoo’s own handiwork, but a very faithful copy of all the elements, down to the little stars and comet he’d sketched running through the words.

Before he can ask how Jongin knew this doodle so well, he sees more drawings. All his. The bear he’s been using for his latte art all week. An oak tree from some days before. A rainbow he’d scribbled on a coffee cup at a customer’s request. And embarrassingly, the penis he’d drawn on a spare napkin at Jongdae’s one night after dinner, to tell him he was being a dick for trying to set him up on a blind date without permission. He knows he tossed that doodle in the trash afterwards.

“How—” he tries to get the question out, but the drawings keep coming as Jongin continues pulling the paper. There’s the cat caricature that he’d fashioned after his coworker, and the butterfly he painstakingly painted into the first latte he ever made for Jongin. Finally, a thunderbolt he’d drawn on a Post-It note and stuck on Jongdae as a warning to others about his static electricity problem.

After these recent doodles, there are simple dots covering a large swath of space. Like ellipses.

.       .       .

Before revealing a misshapen heart around a hibiscus flower. Followed by several bouquets, messy flower crowns, and several simple daisies and asters. The drawings of his childhood. The ones he loved to make for his mother before the horrific traffic accident that took her life and his desire to ever draw flowers again. These are from so long ago, before he moved with his dad down to Busan…

And it dawns on Kyungsoo what this means. Mouth agape, he turns to look at Jongin, now all the way across the stage.

“They show up on the inside of my wrist. Started when I was five. And I have treasured all of them. Every single one of your signals.”

Kyungsoo’s heart beats faster than a hummingbird’s wings, eyes locked on Jongin’s gorgeous celestial ones, as this sinks in. He goes to stand, but Jongin holds out a hand to gesture that he stop and gives small shake of his head.

“It’s you. It’s _always_ been you. You’re… you’re my soulmate, Kyungsoo. But now, it’s time to find out if I’m yours.”

Jongin walks back to the other side of the stage by the microphone, and then [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wv2rLZmbPMA) fills the theater.

Kyungsoo feels it the moment Jongin steps on the stage, slow strides, timed to the beat of the song: a powerful pulsing under his skin, reverberating throughout his chest cavity. It’s in perfect sync with the fluttering motions of Jongin’s long legs as he expresses the music through a series of fluid ballet moves. Kyungsoo marvels at how he can almost _anticipate_ the way the dancer’s arms stretch out and around, drawing exquisite patterns in the air. Jongin’s movements captivate: he is art in motion.

Kyungsoo can feel his blood rushing faster through his veins as the music builds to a frantic peak, Jongin dramatically spinning until he stops abruptly with the pause before the chorus. The dancer locks eyes with him for just a second, and Kyungsoo can feel the world fade away. It’s just him and Jongin, awash in the music. He can both see and _feel_ the all-consuming passion that radiates from Jongin’s emotive face all the way down through his fingertips. The roll of his neck, the gentle flick of his wrist, the arch of his back. Every motion tells a story, shares a feeling: there’s hurt and hope, desperation and determination. But most of all, there’s unabashed yearning to be loved.

Kyungsoo has never seen such vulnerability. It propels him out of his seat and onto the stage the moment the song fades out. Carefully, he reaches for Jongin’s hand, bringing it up to rest on his chest, right over his own heart. He places his own palm on Jongin’s chest, which is heaving from exertion or maybe the gravity of this moment. Their eyes meet as Kyungsoo speaks:

“I can feel it, the music in you.”

Kyungsoo watches as his favorite warm brown irises light up in relief and amazement. He’s felt Jongin’s signals before now – he just didn’t realize what they were, these episodes of suddenly overwhelming sensations timed to music he couldn’t hear. Without the appropriate context, Kyungsoo usually attributed the rhythmic thrumming under his skin or irrational swells in his heart to some quirk of his body: a mild headache or random release of endorphins because his brain has always been wired a little bit differently. (Or so he’s been told. Artist woes.)

There’s so much he wants to say, to share, to know, but Kyungsoo’s never been best with words. He’s more confident with his hands expressing how he feels. He supposes it’s kinda the same way for Jongin, although he needs a paintbrush in his while Jongin needs a musical backdrop instead.

Kyungsoo lets his hands speak his mind, caressing over Jongin’s chest and reaching up to card through glossy locks. He feels Jongin’s strong fingers curl around his waist and pull him closer, til the taller touches their foreheads together.

His soulmate’s eyes have never looked more dazzling. Kyungsoo feels himself drowning in them as he strokes along the boy’s nape.

With a breathless smile, Jongin asks, “So what do we do now?” Such an innocent question that conveys so much; Kyungsoo feels insanely special, that Jongin’s essentially confessing he’s dreamed of finding his mate but never quite dared to dream what would come next.

“We do whatever we want,” Kyungsoo replies softly.

It’s all the permission needed. They both lean in at the same time, bringing their lips together in the sweetest, unhurried kiss. It’s only the gentlest press, but it makes Kyungsoo feel weightless. They both hold onto this first, closed-mouth kiss for so long, savoring the connection. Gradually, the first blends into a second, and a third, each one growing more passionate. Kyungsoo can feel Jongin’s breath quickening as it grazes against his cheek, and he licks his lips subconsciously before pressing in again. The wetness pulls a whimper from Jongin, who starts to suck Kyungsoo’s bottom lip in between his own, and wow. He can feel this start to spiral into something else very quickly. 

His fingers clench around a fistful of Jongin’s shirt, tugging him closer to get a better taste as their tongues shyly brush against each other in light strokes. It's divine, kissing Jongin. The flames of lust blaze in his belly, but he quells them for now. Wanting to preserve the sweetness in this perfect memory, Kyungsoo forces himself to release Jongin’s shirt, hand traveling up to gently cup the boy’s face. He indulges in one more assertive but closed mouth peck before he breaks off the kiss. He runs his eyes over the gorgeous boy, thanking his lucky stars to be gifted with a match so perfect. The desire to express his love, to show him, is overwhelming. He needs to--

“Where do they show up? My drawings?”

Jongin points to the inside of his left wrist, which currently sits bare. Kyungsoo nuzzles the smooth skin and places a delicate, lingering kiss on it.

It’s a beautiful canvas.

“I’m feeling inspired,” he explains in a whisper. Kyungsoo reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the black felt-tipped pen that lives there. Using his teeth, he uncaps it and cradles Jongin’s wrist close in his left hand while he draws with his right. The black ink glides easily on the tanned skin, like it belongs there. Kyungsoo sketches an elegantly cresting wave in the ocean, giving shape and a little detail to the foaming water curling over on itself. Along the edge of the swell, he adds the words:

_More Graceful than Waves_

It's an idea he'll flesh out later, to capture a flowing dance pose of Jongin amid the water. He blows lightly over the finished product, helping the permanent marker dry in place. Jongin’s eyes brim with tears as he whispers, “thank you.”

Kyungsoo pulls him in for another tender kiss before murmuring, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind what?” Jongin whispers back.

“Being my art projects” ... _for the rest of our lives_. Kyungsoo’s not sure if it’s too early to say that last part aloud, but he feels it to the core of his being.

Jongin steps back and grins. “Does it look like I mind?” He gestures toward the long stretch of paper on the stage, covered in replicas of Kyungsoo’s work. They stroll over, hand in hand, so Kyungsoo can better appreciate them up close.

“How did you remember these so faithfully?” he marvels, letting his fingers run over the hibiscus in particular. “I know you’re a genius and stuff, but even for someone with a great memory…”

Jongin reluctantly lets go of his hand to walk off to the side, backstage, returning with a leather-bound journal that he offers to him. “I copied them down. All of them.”

Kyungsoo accepts the journal and pages through it reverently. There must be fifty different sketches of flowers, with neat labels of what kind written underneath each one in a child’s handwriting. So many, so carefully catalogued...

“You like the flowers?”

“They’re my favorite,” Jongin admits without hesitation.

And when Kyungsoo looks at him, sees the joyful smile that’s bloomed on Jongin’s face, he knows. For the first time in 10 years, he’ll be able to draw them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I poured a lot of myself into this fic and am so thankful for its reception. ♡♡♡ Talk with me in the comments, I always reply! If you enjoyed this, you might like my recent chaptered fic [What the Nightingale Spies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11188785). Lots of love to you,
> 
> EDIT: Wow, SM made a fanart for me! ;) From the EXO intro for Melon Music Awards 2017, here is Kyungsoo's confession painting brought to life! <3
> 
> At1stsight/at1stsoo
> 
> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/at1stsoo) | [Tumblr](http://at1stsoo.tumblr.com) | [Curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/At1stsight)
> 
> Original prompt: soulmates!au in which jongin has random scribbles appearing on his arm daily courtesy of art major!ksoo, who has no idea that his hand doodles are showing up on his soulmate's arm.


	2. Bonus: Kyungsoo POV Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback to Kyungsoo's experience back in high school. I hope you enjoy this drabble and the insight it maybe gives into Kyungsoo's character.

It's noon in Amnam High School, and lunch time is rowdy, as usual. Kyungsoo splits time between socializing with friends and working on his more elaborate sketches that he can’t sneakily doodle in the margins during math lessons. He’s been working on more architectural pieces lately, trying to capture his father’s office down by the Busan docks faithfully. If he can get the slopes of the roof and the planks of the wooden pier just right, maybe he’ll frame this one for his dad to hang on his office wall. So many of his throwaway works get snagged by his father, who proudly pins them to a bulletin board beside his desk. Which was fine when Kyungsoo was still in elementary school, but feels a little embarrassing to him now as a high schooler. At least he knows his dad is enthusiastically supportive of him pursuing his passion for art.

After a few more charcoal marks on the page, he puts it away in favor of actually eating during lunch period. Kyungsoo jokes with some of the guys in the back of the room as he fixes his tea and then circles back to his own desk.

His friend, Yifan, pokes his head into Kyungsoo’s classroom. Yifan’s a grade ahead of him, but when Kyungsoo first arrived in this sleepier suburb of Busan, the two bonded over being newbies in a town where most students had known each other since birth. Seoul, Guangzhou: it didn’t matter where they had come from. Both were equally foreign to their peers for the first few months, and so their friendship was cemented despite the age difference. They both had plenty of same-aged friends now, years later, but Kyungsoo still has a soft spot for his hyung. (And vice versa it seems.)

“Hey, I heard you guys have a grade-wide assembly tonight,” Yifan says, perching on the edge of his desk and stealing a slice of kimbap from Kyungsoo’s half eaten plate.

“Yeah, just before last period. Why?” It’s unlike Yifan to take an interest in any formal school functions.

“Nothing, just…” he feigns nonchalance. “Just text me later.”

He’s being weird, and stress eating more of Kyungsoo’s kimbap. Kyungsoo slaps his hand away. “Stop it - you’re tall enough and I still need food to grow,” he chides, getting a semi-fake laugh from his hyung. Kyungsoo cocks his head to the side. “Why do I feel like there’s something important you’re not telling me?”

Yifan stands and nervously fidgets with his school tie. “Uh, just keep in mind I wasn’t  _ allowed _ to tell you. And it’s nothing bad - I’m just really glad I can  _ finally _ get your advice on something.” He sports a sincere smile, eyes drifting to somewhere a few rows behind Kyungsoo’s desk.

“Oh, are you finally going to talk to Seungwan and stop pretending like you come in here just to see me?” Kyungsoo teases. He’s not sure what this would have to do with a school assembly, but his instincts are obviously right: Yifan reddens and cuffs the back of his head, a friendly reprimand, before leaving the room quickly with a point and a “text me!”

The late afternoon lessons drag on and on. The sun sets just as they’re being shuttled out of their homeroom class and into the gymnasium. With virtually no preamble, their tired principal announces they’re here to watch a video and presses a button on the projector to start it up.

_ Mandatory Soulmate Education: For the Emerging Adolescent _

The room is abuzz with murmurs, girls and guys both asking if this is for real. One of Kyungsoo’s classmates leans over and questions, “What do you think?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t answer. He’s too engrossed in the video, the history of how they discovered signals as indicators of human compatibility. How many people will cross paths with their mates at a young age, but some may not discover them until later in life. Kyungsoo feels a peaceful warmth spread from his chest out to the tips of his fingers and toes.

A soulmate. A permanent home found in a person. A place to belong, for life. 

What a beautiful thought. 

A smile blooms on Kyungsoo’s face. He can’t wait to talk to his dad about this. Without question, his parents were soulmates, and he’s excited to hear when and how they found out.

He’s herded out of the gym shortly after the end of the video, texting Yifan cheerily on the way back to his homeroom. The school administration has always planned poorly: Having a final set of evening lessons after this assembly was a bad idea. On a good day, Kyungsoo has trouble paying attention to physics class. On a  _ great _ day like this, there’s no hope for more learning. He stares out the window beside his desk, instead, lost in his own world with a smile that just won’t go away.

_ “I’ll find you one day, soulmate,” _ he thinks fondly, gazing at the beautiful stars now scattered across the night sky. 

_ “If I have to… I’ll search the universe.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /screams/ Sorry if this isn’t the greatest quality, it's unbeta'd and I drabbled it in about an hour because the Kyungsoo + Jongdae barista teaser for Universe was _messing with my SL &F feels!_ The final line is what Kyungsoo spoke (in English, someone hold me) in the teaser: Go watch it [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SErTVxjn9sU)
> 
> I've always wanted to share how Kyungsoo's dreamy, positive reaction to the Mandatory Soulmate Video would've contrasted with Jongin's very sad, emo one, and the Universe teaser triggered the right opportunity, I suppose, and allowed it to link back to the Milky Ways painting. Speaking of which, please appreciate this beautiful moodboard made for the fic by jiloo23! SM is just feeding my au, with the starry pic of Nini for Melon Music Awards, Soo/Chen together as baristas, and then this line?? Wow, thank you, SM, Lee Sooman, thank you so much <3
> 
> An epilogue for this fic is still planned for sometime in the new year. Talk to me in the comments!
> 
> At1stsight/at1stsoo


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